


Agent 401

by JuxtaposedNova



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Violence, Dark Character, Drug Use, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Guns, Hacking, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture, Justice, Lies, Love Confessions, Lust, Mental Health Issues, Mint Eye, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychology, RFA Party (Mystic Messenger), Redemption, Sexual Content, Spies & Secret Agents, Strong Female Characters, Subterfuge, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 50
Words: 155,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuxtaposedNova/pseuds/JuxtaposedNova
Summary: “You move a single inch, and you see this switch here?” The man with an icy peppermint gaze lifted his free arm, his hand holding a small device with his thumb dangerously close to the red button at the top. “I’ll press it. If I do…the whole place will blow up and turn into ashes!”His gaze met hers, blood absorbed into the soil in which it had been spilled. There was a fearsome determination buried into his irises. He wasn’t an soldier, but if there was one thing he was cut out for, it was an epic and idiotic act of love.She closed her eyes for a second, begging whatever goodness remained in the world to help her do what she was about to do. This was it.The denouement to the fantasy they had all created.Original artwork by MisuCastLove.
Relationships: Zen | Ryu Hyun/Main Character, Zen | Ryu Hyun/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 136
Kudos: 63





	1. Prologue: Arsonist's Lullabye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was a man I thought it ended. When I knew love's perfect ache, but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake.
> 
> I give you a warm welcome to this story, in hopes that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I beg you to keep in mind that I am not a native English speaker, but I consider myself fluent enough for the story to make sense with the descriptions I provided. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“He who has a why to live can  
bear almost any how.”  
\- Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

The crunching of glass beneath their feet resonated through the apartment, accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing. Time, as presented by the situation they found themselves in, seemed to pass slowly – as if it had almost stopped entirely.

Her oxygen supply had begun to reach limited levels that she knew would eventually drive her to attempt to free herself from the white-haired man that had her trapped. To say she was amazed that he had been able to climb all the way to the 14th floor of the building and avoid the thermal sensors and security cameras would be an understatement. It revealed enough to let her know he knew what he was doing.

She was in danger, that much she knew. Every word that had come out of his covered mouth signalled danger. His appearance, the tattoo on his shoulder…everything pointed towards the one thing she feared she would have to face.

All the preparation she had done had led her to this moment. Every intercepted email, every call, every text, every interaction, every file, every paragraph, every word.

Too long had she sat in the shadows, waiting to see what would come and go from the situation she had gotten involved in. To play such a game was to play a hand against fate, against a cosmic destiny that once set in motion, could never be stopped. Watching the exchanging of words and grim deals that went behind closed doors and fabricated windows. Knowing that time was not hers to bid, that it was merely borrowed, and it would have to be given back. Pulling the strings of various marionettes like an infamous queen of the evil puppeteers.

Too little time spent between warm and loving embraces and passionate running of fingers through skin, hair and arousal. Gazing into the eyes of the person who was staring back at her with all of their emotions pouring like a broken dam, drowning the sound of uncertainty and filling the abysmal trenches of carefully crafted facades and fears corrupted. Fighting the core of her own identity to become a beacon for herself, to guide her past into the present so the future had a chance to become something beyond the architecture of dreams she had never dared venture into.

* * *

_Playing the role of a princess in the fairy tale she had been unwillingly shoved into had proven to bring her joy like no other thing had in her entire life. Perhaps princess wouldn’t have been the right term, though. She was more of a knight with an armour covered in the stench of death and a consternated victory. The smell of sweat and earth filled her senses, a mix between the salt of the sea and the earth it so weakly attempted to possess underneath its power, an indication of the physical feat he had had to accomplish in order to reach her. He had begged her not to fight back, to come willingly, unaware of the battles and the destruction she was capable of leaving in the wake of her fury-fuelled violence._

_He told her that he was ordered to bring her back alive. And when she had looked deep into the minty influence of his eyes, she knew it to be true, because everything had let to this point. It was better to die than to be taken somewhere she didn’t know – somewhere she had no certainty she would ever come back from, whether it be physically or mentally. She had defied him and forced his hand because she had a job to do, because she had sworn an oath and she’d pay with her death if needed._

_He spoke of a utopian reality – of endless parties, overflowing love and joy without pain. What a thing, she had mused, to have your reality distorted to the point of believing there could be growth without pain. To think you could save anyone from themselves. She wondered, much to her dismay, if there was a way to save him. To bring him out of the compartmentalized perspective he had been brainwashed into – the cognitive tunnel vision created by limbic pulsations beyond his control, by chemicals meant to ruin you. By the slow poisoning of words whispered into the dead of night._

_As soon as the doorbell had rung, she could’ve sworn her heart stopped. She felt freezing ice run through her veins, threatening to paralyse her. Her skin pebbled, letting the intruder know something was amiss. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with unmistakable strength._

_“Huh? Did you invite someone?” He had whispered in an unnervingly calm tone as his eyes widened with surprise. He turned his attention towards the door, his entire body tensing._

_The wood threatened to crack after each pound the person on the other side delivered to it, the hinges barely able to withstand it. She had a bad feeling, but she couldn’t reach for a weapon without alerting her attacker of her intentions. He couldn’t have been taller than her, she was certain she was taller by a few centimetres. She could take him down if it came down to it – if it came down to proving who had the best close quarter combat abilities. If it came down to knowing whose fists would sink into flesh with a lot more ease._

_“Maybe…Luciel Choi?”_

_She had, to some degree, expected that name to escape from his lips at one point; but the dangerous glint in his eyes when the realization that the person on the other side of that door could be 707 had only proven the veridical words in the evidence concealed within the walls of the apartment. She had prepared for this, to fight them both if it came to it._

_The pounding at the door grew restless. “Since he is the only one who knows this place.”_

_“How do you know Seven?” She uttered, her eyes narrowing as she tried to pull her arm back. Feigning ignorance gave her the best possibility of dragging information from him, even if time was against her._

_A dry chuckle fogged the inside of his mask, pushing his breath back into his mouth. “Of course, I know him, since…”_

_When a click coming from the background notified her of the door being opened, she prepared herself to either fight or flee. This was her task, her goal, and she wouldn’t allow innocents to get caught in the crossfire. If she was to walk to the end of the road holding Thanatos’ hand, she would. She did a mental run through of the places where she had concealed weapons within the apartment. The closest hiding place was underneath the barstool next to the kitchen island._

_“Oh, no, someone seems to know the password door.” The man said, an evil sort of unnatural glee tinted upon his words. A hysterical omen to the resentment he held close to his chest like a babe._

_She had not been certain of the passing of time, but it was in that moment when it finally slowed down, making every second count. When Cronos decided to gift her some leniency to design the steps she would take in this dangerous dance with the devil._

_“Calypso, are you hurt?!” Zen’s beautiful, melodic and worried voice bounced through the walls._

_Her heart did stop, then, knowing who had come to her aid. A part of her selfishly had hoped for anyone but him. He was the last person she wanted to get caught in a disaster that wasn’t his. The memories rushed to her, one by one, as she stole a glance at the intruder. She assessed the reality she was in as best as she could, knowing her mask was about to become a mountain of broken ceramic on the floor. Every piece a part of herself and the reverie of a scarred woman._

_Every text message, every word, every fleeting touch, every flirtatious comment – this was the climax of everything she had been working towards. She couldn’t…wouldn’t let it end like this. Not after all she had been through, not after all the suffering and pinning._

_Balling her hands into fists, she yelled back. “I’m fine!”_

_The floor creaked underneath the weight of his muscles as he walked towards them, a glare so deadly it could’ve reaped the last remnants of a life to be bereft of its essence. A hole born from the power of his hatred alone. It sent a delicious vibration down her spine and she pushed it to the back of her mind, this was not the time to be turned on. And, yet, if she had the chance, she’d make sure to force some of that energy out of him in bed._

_His voice was chilling, dangerous, as he spoke once his gaze landed on the scene that unfolded before him. “I…I don’t know who you are but let go of her.”_

_Her gaze softened, overwhelming love for him pouring out of it, and she smiled sadly._

* * *

Zen’s eyes were filled with fear and resolve. She knew he was a fighter, but she didn’t know just how well trained the man cutting her oxygen supply was. Terror gripped her when she recognized the emotions circling through his eyes, for she had seen those demons in her own reflection many times. She had yelled at her own mirage, cursing the very deeds she had carried on her back like a sack of rocks through the vast majority of her life.

“No.” Her intruder said.

“If you don’t, I’ll have to use force to protect my girl.” He fired back, taking a step closer.

“You move a single inch, and you see this switch here?” The man with an icy peppermint gaze lifted his free arm, his hand holding a small device with his thumb dangerously close to the red button at the top. “I’ll press it. If I do…the whole place will blow up and turn into ashes!”

His gaze met hers, blood absorbed into the soil in which it had been spilled. There was a fearsome determination buried into his irises. He wasn’t a soldier anymore, but if there was one thing he was cut out for, it was an epic and idiotic act of love. She begged with her eyes, trying to convey the message she was desperately trying to send him. He would die trying to save her.

“I already have Luciel’s device figured out. It did take some time, though.” The man tilted his head towards hers, his hair tickling her ear as he mockingly teased the man she was beginning to love. “Installing a bomb in the house of a woman who lives on her own? What is wrong with everyone in the RFA?”

“…what do you want?” Zen hissed, his words hitting him like a slap to the face. He could’ve never known.

“To escape this place safely with the RFA’s party planner.” He answered, leaning so close to her ear that his lips brushed against it as he finished his explanation, some sort of wicked desire intertwined in them. “Of course, I’ll take all of the members away soon.”

She assessed the situation as coldly as she could.

“If you don’t want to activate the bomb, you’d better stay still. Just watch as I take _your girl_ and disappear.”

The threat hung in the air, a promise he would gladly make good on.

“Damn it!” Her lover cursed, his eyes wildly looking for something to attack the man holding her with. “Where did you come from? What do you want?!”

His voice stilled for a second as a chilling realization dawned on him.

“Are you the one who led Calypso here?”

Nuzzling his face closer to her, her attacker began laughing as he hid his face in the crook of her neck, taking in the scent of coffee that seemed to permanently linger on her skin.

She closed her eyes for a second, begging whatever goodness remained in the world to help her do what she was about to do. Imploring to all the gods she didn’t believe in to please let her do this one thing – to punish her after all this was said and done. She’d burn like an arsonist’s final masterpiece in the weight of her sins, salvation but a final breath drawn from the guilty who had thought they were doing the thing they believed right.

Crossing the Rubicon would mean that she would never be able to return to the people she had slowly been learning to call home. She’d disappear like a ghost in the wind, the howling of her existence veiled with the painful memories of betrayal and falsity. Regardless of how real it had been for her and for the man who now stood in front of her, it would crumble into the ground like a keep overthrown and usurped by a stronger opponent. It would be the very truth of a game maker unfolding before the eyes of all who had the luck to sit by and watch.

Her heart tightened in her chest painfully, making her suck in a breath, and open her eyes. She mouthed the three words she had never dared utter after the phantoms of her past had subdued her so powerfully, melting red against dark brown – birthing the colour of the essence that symbolized life: blood. Crimson, hot, and the taste of iron on her tongue as a caveat of what was about to come. 

This was it.

The denouement to the fantasy they had all created.

* * *


	2. Domino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They burn each other one by one like a domino.
> 
> And so, our journey begins. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, let me know in the comments or leave kudos.

* * *

_“Finding the passion and purpose in your life  
is a trial-by-fire process. You don’t simply wake up one day and  
become happy doing one thing forever and ever. It’s a constant work-in-progress.”  
\- Mark Manson_

* * *

The normally quiet coffee shop buzzed with the cacophony of the rush hour bringing with it a wave of customers so big, the teenager manning the cash register feared they would have their heads bitten off. It was his first day, his trembling hands and sweat-covered forehead were indication enough of it.

He yelled order after order to the people in charge of making the beverages and snacks the clients paid for. He had only been at this for one day and he was ready to quit, fuck having more money for booze. When he told his parents that he was going to get a job in order to become more independent, he had not expected to be bombarded with harassment by middle aged women desperate to get their caffeine fill. His friend had promised him the coffee shop would always be filled with beautiful babes, but the only beautiful thing he had seen all day was the front door opening every time a begrudgingly satisfied customer left.

Face after face, he just continued to ring customers up and yell orders. And, then, almost as if his prayers to the gods of beautiful babes had been answered, a tall brunette with complicated Viking braids walked in, talking to someone through the phone, the sound of her voice like an elven lullaby from the games he loved to play so much. He had never been more motivated to ring customers as fast as he was in that moment, studying the obviously stunning woman who stood in line a couple feet away from him. He observed her meticulously, trying to figure out whether he had a shot of getting her number or if he would be rejected on the spot.

He noticed the lean and muscular arms hidden underneath the silk fabric of her shirt, and as his eyes travelled further down, he could’ve sworn she had toned legs for days. Eyes as black as a dark hole with thick lashes that could cause a hurricane. He noticed the delicate features, the tiny nose and generous lips. Blaming it on the hormones, he prayed so she’d turn around and he’d get a nice glimpse at her derriere. As she continued to talk to the person on the other side of call, she turned on her side to gaze out one of the big windows that allowed sunlight to filter into the coffee shop.

He licked his lips as he noticed the round and, dare he say, perfect curve of her bottom. She looked as if she had walked straight out of a magazine. He would do it; he would subtly flirt with her and ask her for her number, and they’d go out on a date, and mommy issues be damned, he’d –

“Are you done staring at her, man?” A man clearing his throat brought him out of his reverie.

The teenager shook his head, clearing his own throat awkwardly and casting his gaze down to avoid the embarrassment of being caught checking a woman out. “Sorry…what do you want to order, sir?”

“She’s out of your league, boy. Try sticking to girls your age.” The man offered as the teenager handed him his change. “Coffee. Black.”

Finally, after ringing what seemed to be a hundred costumers, she approached the counter, excusing herself to the caller and putting her phone down while she ordered.

“I want a cappuccino and a…” She trailed off, bending down slightly to look at the muffin display.

He couldn’t help it, he gulped as he stared at her cleavage as subtly as he could. Well, it was safe to say he’d be using moisturizer and toilet paper that very same night. Well, if he wasn’t interrupted again. It had become increasingly hard to find pleasure in such a busy stage of his life.

“I recommend the blueberry muffin.” He offered as coolly as he could manage, waiting for the validation that would come from her response.

She blinked, surprised, and smirked at him, displaying perfectly straight and white teeth. “And a blueberry muffin, then.”

Building up the courage to ask for her number as she paid for her food, he was left with the words stuck on his throat once she returned to her phone call.

He shook his head and chuckled to himself as she exited the store, trying to balance the coffee and bag with her muffin inside of it while talking on the phone. Oh, well. Can’t say he didn’t try.

Meanwhile, the woman was seething in rage.

The sound of her heels clicking against the pavement was muffled by the noise that surrounded the streets of London. She sipped her cappuccino and frowned, trying not to let her temper get the best of her as she replayed her boss’ words in her head again and again. She wasn’t old enough for this nonsense, but she sure felt like it. She had handed in her resignation letter – knowing she had saved up enough money through the years to live a life that was both comfortable and luxurious. And yet, even after accepting her resignation, she had been called in once again.

She watched the couples, families and loners walking down the street. Living their lives unencumbered by the darkness she knew lurked in the shadows just waiting for the right moment to strike and destroy, to vanquish and usurp.

Walking through the wide glass doors of the building, she nodded in acknowledgment to the old receptionist who smiled at her – no doubt pleasantly surprised at her sudden return to the agency. She wasn’t supposed to be back here, instead, she was supposed to be working on her tan in an island somewhere in Greece.

People scurried to the side as soon as she crossed their path, feeling the deadly aura surrounding her. The office building façade disappeared as she smashed a code into a reinforced steel door and walked through it. Some of the agents inside of the room greeted her and she forced a smile, albeit she was certain it looked like grimace from an outside point of view.

Into her line of vision, came the double doors of the mastermind’s office. Without bothering to knock, she threw the door wide open, hoping to startle her former superior and let her anger be known.

“Please close the door and take a seat.” _A_ said calmly, lifting his gaze from the documents he was reading and taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “Thank you for coming in.”

She raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

His office was elegant and cosy, the oak walls and floors giving it a sense of home. Rows after rows of bookcases lining against the wall, filled with obscure books and rare masterpieces. The desk was bereft of all personality, save for his laptop and a picture of his family. She risked a glance at it, recognizing the child grinning back at her, knowing it had been one of the happiest days of her life, with the hands of both her adoptive parents on her shoulders. She would have to pay his husband a visit before she left.

 _A_ chuckled, handing her a tablet with the information she needed. Scanning it superficially, she sighed. Not wanting to be here, she had barely bothered to pay attention to the information presented to her. She thought of a blue sea and the scent of lemons, of a red door and cherry pies on the windowsill.

“What is it, _A_? I thought I made it clear I was out.” She spoke, her accent highlighting her exasperation. She lifted the tablet, pointing at it with disdain. “And this – this is not good enough to bring me back in. A rookie could do it.”

“401, there’s no one better than you to take this mission on. I understand your displeasure, but you are the only one capable enough to successfully complete this. The police asked for our help, it’s an open investigation.”

“This is mere intel gathering.” She argued. “Is it really worth bringing me back for this? You know you’ll have to pay me a small fortune for this. No amount of information is worth the pay I’ll collect for this.”

A shook his head, smiling at her fondly. “I’ve missed you, child.”

Her gaze softened and she looked down at the tablet once again, reading the information carefully. “I’ve missed you too.”

He nodded, standing up to pour two glasses of whiskey. “A reporter and a wedding planner disappeared looking into the alleged suicide of one of the most notorious charity fundraising members of South Korea. They left nothing behind except for what little information they knew and gathered. These are only two of the many disappearances that have happened in the last few months.”

As she read the contents of the report, she frowned. “This doesn’t make sense. If she committed suicide, why were they looking for her?”

“No body was ever found and the only person who claims to have seen it, was her fiancé. And he is, unsurprisingly, a very private person. This is not just intel gathering, 401. This is an undercover mission. There is more to this than it meets the eye, we’re certain of it.”

401 nodded, resting the tablet gently on her lap. “My mission is to figure out where our missing detectives are and uncover the mystery of her suicide.”

“You’ll find information on the rest of the members of her organization – and it’s worth taking a look at them.” _A_ pointed out. “There’s some individuals you’re going to have to watch out for. And I recommend you do so every second you spend on this mission.”

With her interest piqued, she lifted the tablet and unlocked it. Looking through the multiple folders she found the one containing the members of the fundraising organization. She was surprised to find that they were all attractive individuals, it was certainly a first in her line of work. There was information on most of them: family, finances, behaviour patterns, personal data, etc.

It was a cruel and harsh reminder of how people wore masks and gloves to cover the tracks of their wrongdoings. They all felt entitled to the things they did.

Then again, had she not been in the _right_ side of the law, she could easily be labelled a ruthless killer and liar. Just how much blood did she have in her hands? How much blood had the forked things her tongue enunciated provoked? Saints were just fairy tales, there was a dichotomy to everything, with a wide spectrum of greys that turned the world into TV static. In every religion, in every law book, she’d burn in hell for the things she’d done. Part of her had begun to welcome it.

She ran her fingers through the picture provided in the man’s profile she was currently studying. His hair was just like starlight, like a silver glow surrounding his head like a halo. He had the most interesting eye colour she had ever come across, they surely had to be product of a rare genetic mutation. Every part of him screamed ethereal beauty. If mythical creatures like nymphs and muses existed, she was certain he’d be one of them.

Culturally, she was used to another definition of masculinity. Men with beards and muscles, dominating alphas who feared nothing but repressed everything because to showcase emotion was to be weak. Not all of them, certainly, but a quantity big enough for her to group them into a category.

Yet, she found herself staring into the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes upon. The glide of his chiselled jaw, the naughtiness hidden behind those beautiful, red almond eyes. A fantasy of how soft his hair would feel between her fingers. Perhaps all she really needed was a good fuck, she couldn’t be thinking about the suspects this way.

“Is his hair colour real?” She asked suddenly and quietly as she zoomed in on the picture, telling herself it was just so she could memorize his features for the mission. _A_ walked to her, handing her a glass of whiskey as a peace sign and peeking over her shoulder, a smile spreading over his face.

“Hyun Ryu. He’s an albino, an actor. Fascinating, isn’t he? He’s easily the most attractive of the bunch.” He commented, drinking and observing her with interest. _A_ was the only person in the world capable of reading her easily. “What do you think of him?

Amazed at his exotic features, she was unable to stop the words that slipped past her lips. “He’s beautiful.”

 _A_ burst out laughing. She masked her emotions, trying to conceal the embarrassment that threatened to rise to her cheeks and gulped down the contents of her glass in one go. It wasn’t like she spoke of her sexual life to him.

“Well…as beautiful as he is, he is not the one you should watch out for.” He pointed out, touching a file with the name Luciel Choi underneath the icon of the envelope.

She raised an eyebrow in confusion and looked at her mentor. The man on the picture didn’t look dangerous – yet she knew things were seldom what they seemed. He seemed like an interesting character based on what she could see.

“That is Luciel Choi, alias 707. He is almost a ghost. We know he works for an intelligence agency as a hacker – quite a talented one at that – and that he had a close relationship with the victim and the suspect.” _A_ ’s expression turned serious. “Do not underestimate him, 401. He is the person with the best probability to find out what you are if you’re not careful. He could be dangerous if engaged.”

“I am also a ghost, _A_.” She scoffed, standing up. “As far as the world is concerned, I do not exist.”

 _A_ ’s grimace would’ve been imperceptible to an outsider, but she realized the weight of her words on him as she noticed his tired countenance tense. Despite the truth held within her words, it didn’t take away the pain that lurked in them. She didn’t exist, there was no record of her existence. She could die and no one would be able to identify her but him and his husband. Regardless of whether she had wanted this life or not, she was groomed for it – to fight for pride and glory, to leave no man behind, to leave death in her wake.

It was a tender spot in her reality. It was both a curse and a blessing, having no records of her existence. All meaning in life was shaped by the desire to never truly die, to leave a legacy behind. Through the arduous and learning years of her training and career, she had internalized the bitter antidote of life. Death was inevitable, and the realization of such a fact should not be avoided. Because, after all her brushes with death, she had become comfortable with the fact of her own death. It had allowed her to choose her values more freely, unrestrained by the illogical quest for immortality, and freed from dangerous dogmatic views. 

“I didn’t mean it that way.” She sighed ruefully. She hadn’t really meant to remind him of that fact. He was also aware of her legal nonexistence, after all, he had been the one to make sure it remained that way. It gave her the opportunity to become whoever she wanted.

Putting on a calm façade, _A_ nodded. He was just as good as her concealing his emotions, if not better. “I know.”

They stared at each other. An unspoken bond, a favour repaid and an unconventional fatherly love. What was there left to say when every word had been spoken? There were only memories made and memories to come.

“We will provide you an identity with enough background information to avoid any misunderstandings. You will have to memorize the details and be prepared for questioning should unexpected obstacles arise.”

“Don’t.” She blurted out. “This is my last mission. I’ll go as myself – just give me a past that they won’t dare question.”

“Are you certain?” _A_ pressed, his lips becoming a tight line. “You’ve never done that. It could prove to be a mistake.”

Sighing, she nodded. “If anything happens, I’m suing.”

Chuckling, _A_ beckoned her closer. She approached him and stopped only when they were face to face. He poked her forehead with his index and middle fingers, then placed his hands on her shoulders. There was so much they wanted to say to each other. They had tried their best not to bond, but it had been impossible.

“Will you walk beside Thanatos, one last time?” He asked, referencing their agency’s motto.

“Into the darkest parts of the Tartarus.” She replied, closing her eyes as she leaned her forehead against his.

After separating, he gave her a smile and walked her out of his office. As she began her way down the hallway, his voice called out to her.

“Agent 401.”

She stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

“You have two weeks to prepare. Do make sure to visit us before you leave, Ian has missed you dearly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Calypso?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful. I have a feeling this mission will be quite hard.”

* * *


	3. From Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.
> 
> If you like this story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment.

* * *

_"It is only in adventure that some people succeed in  
_ _knowing themselves - in finding themselves."  
\- Andre Gide_

* * *

She had landed in South Korea a week ago. It had been years since she had visited the country, even longer since it had been for work purposes. The wind softly caressing her face as she walked through the streets of Seoul welcomed her, a soft invitation to search and share the dawn of one last experience.

It was a beautiful and modern city, clean. Almost sterile in a way, with its rules and the people who gladly followed them. It was a nice change from the chaos of the city that had nurtured her well into her teenage years.

 _A_ ’s cunning never ceased to surprise her, either. He had constructed an identity that was very similar to her own, minus the whole special agent business and the tragic background story. She was Calypso Ydenn, an overzealous journalist, always eager to get the next story. Her new identity was surprisingly impressive. She had graduated early from Oxford University with a master’s degree in journalism, apparently always interested in delivering the truth to the people. Moved to South Korea after the death of her parents because she wanted to get away from the pain of being reminded of them in every inch of London. She was fluent in Korean, which was true. 

Her new identity also included a very detailed psychological report of her, claiming she had undergone therapy during her college years to help her deal with her depression – which was also true. She worked for one of the major networks of the country and was tipped of the mysterious disappearances. Hence, the reason she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

There was a burning numbness inside of her as she somehow saw herself from the outside. Watching her life fluttering in emptiness, carrying the sun inside of her suitcase in case she got cold while following leads to an unknown location.

The police had been welcoming, if not a little surprised at how young the agent the PIIA – Private International Intelligence Agency – had sent. They had detailed their findings to her, expressed their worries and given her everything she needed to solve the case. Entrusting her the success of the mission, they had allowed her to access their system and data without restrictions. Even if they hadn’t, she would’ve been able to obtain it. They had offered her teams, but she had declined, telling them it was best if she worked on her own in case their suspect somehow knew the police was investigating him.

Fair Kang, the reporter, had left a dossier with pictures of the victim, Rika, and her fiancé, Jihyun Kim, whose alias was V. He had been following V in secret, but based on what little information the dossier contained, she guessed he hadn’t found much. There were records of plane tickets that were never used, calls that couldn’t be traced, and receipts for hiking gear and undisclosed chemicals. Unusual purchases for a photographer, she noted. She had suggested to the officers that perhaps he had been venturing into nature more and more and they had said it wasn’t unusual for him, since his job normally required him to do so.

The wedding planner, Mark, had overseen the details of their wedding until Rika died. V had allegedly paid everything despite not going through with the wedding. He had claimed, in his journals and various sticky notes placed in odd places on his planner, that the reporter had contacted him and questioned him, trying to obtain a better idea of what the couple had been beyond the image they displayed to the public. With a sense of misplaced justice, he had invited himself into Fair’s investigation and begun digging for secrets. Besides, he had written, it would be good for business if he solved it. The wedding planner who had solved a crime. It didn’t make much sense in her head, but she understood that publicity was good.

And they had both gone missing.

The detectives had given her all the evidence they had found, and she had inspected the homes of their missing men for anything that could’ve been easily forgotten. Surprisingly, she had not turned empty-handed. She had discovered the same word written repeatedly in various pieces of paper and files inside of their computers: _Magenta_.

When she asked about it to the police, they had said they didn’t know what it meant other than the colour. Their records of the word were none, leading her to just archive the information until she found use for it.

She had notified _A_ of her findings through a special device that couldn’t be tracked nor hacked. It was top of the line spy gear, she jokingly told herself despite there not being a better way to describe it. Albeit she didn’t need it, she also carried a smartphone to give some sense of normalcy.

With nothing left but circumstantial evidence, she retraced the steps of both Mark and Fair. Questioning the same people as inconspicuously as she could, going to the same places they had gone.

She had discovered that they were both interesting characters. Their daily routines were not out of the ordinary, but the way they worked was. One of them lived up to his name, writing as fairly and objectively as he could about different topics. The other…well…he was a fantastic wedding planner who had accidentally made both the groom and bride fall for him once, essentially losing both clients when they broke off the engagement. She had laughed at the bizarreness of it all. His specialty were unique weddings, dreams come true.

Not only that, but they had both been party guests to the RFA parties held before Rika’s death. So far, it was the only link she had been able to produce with the minimal information she had in her possession.

Walking through the streets, getting reacquainted with the city, trying out new foods and enjoying what she could when she was free; she had created a routine. She worked with the police for a bit in the morning, had lunch in a café or a fancy restaurant, investigated around the city, went back to her apartment and did some research, then gave herself the rest of the evening free. She either spent it at the gym or streaming shows on the internet. She had gotten really into _Queer Eye_ lately.

Of course, she had also noticed someone following her. Having done this for a vast majority of her life, she could easily recognize the signs of someone trailing her. The cars parked outside of the apartment she had rented, the men dressed in black ducking out of view as soon as she turned around, the heavy weight of someone’s gaze on her most of the time. The shadows on her window and the almost imperceptible rattling of her doorknob at dawn. It was no surprise she slept with her gun tucked safely underneath her pillow, fully loaded.

There was a nasty little feeling nagging at her, telling her this was much bigger than what she had been led to believe. _A_ had told her so, but he had not elaborated further. What had given him that impression?

She had been sitting at a restaurant, enjoying her pasta, when the waiter poured her another glass of wine. Classical music and the sound of cutlery and chatter. With every day that passed, she became increasingly frustrated. It normally didn’t take this long to figure out what was going on.

Her phone pinged unexpectedly.

Lifting the cloth napkin, she wiped her mouth, trying not to mess her lipstick and grabbed the phone to unlock it. Raising an eyebrow, she eyed the notification indicating an error. Giving the room a quick scan, she tried to identify anyone that looked suspicious. But the restaurant was mainly empty, only a woman with her children could be seen. She straightened in her seat, tense and prepared to fight, and began going through the possible scenarios in her mind.

Unlocking the phone, she was greeted by the sight of her screen displaying the obvious signs of being hacked live. She didn’t even attempt to block it, knowing this could be the same person who had been following her around. Unencumbered by the certainty of the hacker being unable to find out anything real about her, she let it happen. It was a standard phone and her use of it was pretty standard, with links to _Tasty_ cooking videos in her watch history and searches like _weird mole in arm cancer?_

Calypso watched silently as the screen flashed with numbers and letters, waiting for the hacker to take whatever they wanted, nothing would be useful. Her brow furrowed when a chatroom opened, and a message popped up under the username “Unknown”.

> **_Unknown:_ ** _…Hello…?_
> 
> _**Me** : ?_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Can you see this?_
> 
> _**Me** : Yes, I can._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _…finally connected. Thank god.  
>  It is not every day you get a text from a stranger._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _I’m a bit flustered myself. I found a smartphone at the  
>  subway station, but all it had was this messenger app. I want to find the  
> owner, but I don’t see any contact info or call records._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _I’ve been sending messages with this app but no reply…_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _All I see is an address and some important-looking numbers  
>  saved in notes._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _I’d like to go there myself but I’m currently abroad._

Calypso supressed a smile, knowing this was a trap. She meditated the possibilities and dangers that would certainly come from answering this person. If this was how Mark and Fair had been lured into their kidnapping, this was her best chance at getting answers. Whoever had texted her, knew she was digging for things that were best left buried six feet underground.

Conceptually, trust was a different thing where she came from. Had she been in her homeland, she would’ve answered with a polite _fuck off, muppet_ and gone on her merry little way. But people were different here, less selfish and egocentric. It was no wonder they were so industrially and technologically progressive. Their work and living ethics were completely different. So, she pretended to be a civil human being.

> **_Me:_ ** _An address?_

> **_Unknown:_ ** _Yes. There’s a Korean address and a long  
>  number. I think it’s a password._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _ Do you mind going to the address? _
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _That’s all that’s saved in this phone._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _I know you’re surprised to have someone  
>  suddenly pop up and ask you a favour like this. But still…_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _I’d appreciate it if you could help._
> 
> **_Me:_ ** _Why should I help you?_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Since you’re the only clue I have._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _I’ve been trying to find the owner with  
>  this phone, but I didn’t find any clues until now._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _ I would really like to find the owner. _
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Then God will be happy._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Oh, sorry! I didn’t mention it before.  
>  I’m religious._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Never mind what I just said. I’m sorry  
>  if I weirded you out._

She knew this person was trying to lure her into a false sense of security by telling her this. To portray a traditional image of a moral and good person. Biting her lip, she lifted her head and searched for signs of anything that could highlight the person who was sending her these messages. Nothing.

> **_Unknown:_ ** _Can you please help me? I’ll make  
>  it up to you if I get back to Korea._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _It’s really a safe place. If you feel unsafe,  
>  you can turn around._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _I know the area. It’s developed._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Please?_

_Yeah, right. Tough shit, kid._ She scoffed. This was, at this point, the best lead she had – and she sure as hell wasn’t about to let it go to waste. If she felt unsafe, she would make sure whoever tried to attack her caught her hands with their face. _They ain’t ever met a bitch like me._

> **_Me:_ ** _Fine…I’m leaving right away if it feels sketchy._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _You trust me…_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Thank you!_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Just a sec. I’ll send you the address._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Found it._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _[Address]_ [ _Click Link_ ](https://www.google.com/maps/place/Hannam+THE+HILL/@37.5373359,127.0095793,13z/data=!4m8!1m2!2m1!1shannam+the+hill+apartments!3m4!1s0x357ca3a54b9fb3a3:0xd6ca68f504f00b05!8m2!3d37.5373359!4d127.0095793?hl=en)

She knew it was now or never. Paying for her unfinished meal as quickly as she could, she left the restaurant. As soon as she was outside, she signalled for a taxi and showed the address to the driver without checking it out herself, hoping he knew where it was. She was in a hurry. It was, in retrospect, a stupid ass move, but she had been frustrated and cranky because she had not gotten to eat the delicious fluffy cheesecake she had heard so much about.

On the drive there, she kept on reading the messages, trying to figure out who had contacted her. Could it have been the victim’s fiancé? Had he been the one behind the mysterious disappearances? If so, it made sense for him to attempt to get rid of the people who were trying to uncover the crime. Carefully, so the driver wouldn’t notice, she checked the inside of her trench coat to make sure her gun was still in there. She also kept an eye on their surroundings, checking for any signs of her followers.

Upon her arrival, she found herself staring at one of the most expensive living areas in Seoul. She was no fool, she knew exactly where she was. She glanced down at the address once again, paid the taxi driver and walked to the building with the designated letter. Mentally preparing herself, she entered the building. She showed the receptionist the address, made an excuse as to why she was there – to pick up some boxes and documents -, and took the elevator all the way up to the 14th floor. She noticed there were only two doors, which meant she was probably about to enter an apartment with a considerable amount of space.

The door to the right opened and a polished looking woman came out of the apartment, holding the hand of her equally polished son. The woman raised an eyebrow at her but smiled politely.

“Are you looking for someone?” The woman queried; her voice filled with kindness. “I’m afraid you won’t find anyone there. The young woman who used to live there passed away.”

Her ears perked up, storing that piece of information for later. Rika had interacted with her neighbours enough for them to know about her death, then. Perhaps she’d be able to squeeze some information out of the woman.

“Thank you for letting me know.” She smiled back. “But I’m only here to pick up some documents.”

The lie came easily, and the woman nodded at her, wishing her a good day and leaving with her son in tow, who turned around to stick his tongue at her. She reciprocated.

As soon as the elevator’s doors closed, she turned to the door on the left and clicked her tongue at the password lock on it. Her phone vibrated and she checked the messages, taken aback by the fact that it was the same person who had hacked into her life. Now, she knew without a doubt someone was watching her. 

She forced herself not to look away from her phone to not let the person know she was aware that she was being followed.

It took everything in her not to reach for her gun.

> **_Unknown:_ ** _Are you there? ^^ See?  
>  Nothing strange._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _ Is there a password lock on the door?_
> 
> **_Me:_ ** _Yes._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _I’ll send you the digits. Try it._

The person sent her a code and she inputted it. The door opened without a hitch and she hesitated, remaining outside. She typed back.

> **_Me:_** _The door is open_.
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _ Good. Why don’t you go inside?_

Calypso knew she had to pretend it wasn’t a trap. Trying to adhere to the ethics of the country, she typed her reply. Whoever was on the other side of the phone should’ve known she couldn’t be this stupid.

 _No one really was, right?_ She thought as she peered through the crack in the door. There was no sound coming from the inside.

> **_Me:_ ** _Can I just enter a stranger’s house?_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _You can just leave a note.  
>  I’ll give you my info._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _If something happens, you can  
>  just show my messages. That’ll do._
> 
> **_Me:_ ** _Alright…_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Th_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _ank_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _you…_

Entering the apartment cautiously, she closed the door behind her. It would make it hard for the attacker to escape if it came down to fighting. With her hand on her gun and the other one holding the phone – she ventured into the apartment.

It was expensive, there was no doubt about it. She scanned it as fast as she could and frowned when she realized there was no one inside. It was completely silent, completely devoid of any life form. Her hand dropped from where it was holding her gun and she glanced at her phone, noticing it was undergoing another live hacking.

While the hacker finished, she stole a glance at the apartment. Fine decorations, minimalistic and modern. It looked like one of those model apartments real estate agents showed to potential buyers. It was truly devoid of life, no signs of personal life. It raised the question of what kind of person was the fundraising member. She was certain that people did keep, at the very least, pictures of family or little trinkets and clutter that symbolised their lives. This was bereft of personality, of the meaning of home. Even she had personal items in her apartment.

Another chatroom opened and she noticed this one seemed different, almost normal, but unlike any other she had ever seen. The design was strange, although not entirely alien. It was intuitive enough for her to understand how to use it. She scanned it quickly, taking in the details. Her eyes widened when she read the names at the top of the screen.

Holy fuck.

An alert popped up.

_Calypso has entered the chatroom._

* * *


	4. Mystery Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and things we cannot tell each other. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to give it kudos or comment. I'd love to hear your opinion.

* * *

_“Thy fate is the common fate of  
all; into each life some rain must fall.”  
\- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

* * *

She inhaled the eucalyptus aroma of the apartment, letting it try its hand at calming her. She freaked out a little, and then exhaled. This wasn’t a coincidence; she wasn’t that stupid. Why had the hacker given her contact with the members of the RFA? Almost every name she had been given inside of the data pad containing the information of her mission was right in front of her, conglomerated into a chatroom.

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Failed my midterms fml T_T_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Cuz u played LOLOL all night lol._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _If you want to work for our company,  
>  you should take care of your GPA._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _I’m still on the list?! +_+_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Yes._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Nice – Can’t believe u get to work straight  
>  after college lol_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _In this day and age!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Lame. It’s nepotism._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _It’s called recruitment, actually._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _It’s giving a free pass instead of actually training  
>  the worker._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Whatever. I couldn’t care less what  
>  you say._

She watched, waiting for them to take notice of her presence. Expecting for them to be talking about illicit activities was not entirely unrealistic, but she had not expected this either. It seemed far too normal. An alert had popped up, there was no way in hell they wouldn’t eventually realize there was someone else in the chatroom. In the meantime, she watched them interact. It was fascinating how, with the descriptions she had been provided, they came to life.

Calypso couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped her lips as she watched them bicker. Their personalities were exactly as described in the reports she was given. Even after all these years, it was always one thing to read about the targets and another one entirely to actually engage with them. Most of the time, it wasn’t pleasant, but right now, it seemed fairly harmless.

> **_707:_ ** _Wait!_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Why?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _??_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Think someone entered the chat room;;_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Calypso…?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Wtf. How did it get in here?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Hacker!_

“Ah, bloody hell.” Calypso whispered, closing her eyes. She had no idea how she was going to go about this, but she was determined to make the most of it. This was easy access to all the people connected to her mission and, even though she didn’t exactly know how the person who had been following her connected her to them or why – a thing she would have to look into -, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It would have to be an almost surgical, the way she’d have to interact with them. Measuring the possible reactions of them all at the same time was almost impossible. All that was left was letting it unfold, watching the domino effect do its job. 

She walked to the nearest couch, keeping her eyes peeled in case there were any threats, and sat down, watching the whole breakdown unfold before her eyes. She had to remain alert, no matter how lifeless the apartment seemed.

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Hacker?! Thereae’s a hacker in ouer rooml!_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Sevnee do something!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Hey, typos. -_-;;_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Wait a sec. I’m searching._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Who are you? Reveal yourself.  
>  Hey, Assitant Kang._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Yes, I am here._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _You were so quiet I thought you went  
>  somewhere._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Nothing was out of the ordinary  
>  so I was just watching_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _but I see something has just happened._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _omg_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _No one can enter this chatroom without  
>  installing the private app we use…it seems someone has downloaded  
> the RFA Messenger._

_Interesting._ Calypso mentally took note of that fact and continued watching the conversation. They knew she was in there, but she didn’t deem it wise to reveal herself yet. While they talked amongst themselves, she would have to figure out what to do. If it was worth it interacting with them directly.

She could search the apartment for anything of importance, access the computer and download everything contained inside of it. Search the drawers of every desk, look for hidden storage places. It would probably take her a day or two to search and strip the entire place down thoroughly. The hacker could kick her out as easily as they had let her in. If not the hacker, she also noticed that 707, Luciel Choi, was logged in the chatroom. He could also easily kick her out as well and delete the entire history.

Reaching into her pocket, she connected the agency’s device to her phone, linking the information, downloading it all. If she was kicked out, at least she would have record of the things said by the members. Turning the chat log the police and the agency would give them a better idea of what was going on. For now, she waited until they said something that could give her any indication of their involvement in Rika’s death.

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _I thought Seven let only us download it?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Maybe someone downloaded the app on two  
>  phones?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Maybe?_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Who downloaded it twice?_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Not me!_

It came to her, then, that actively engaging with them and earning their trust could play to her advantage. Retrieving information would be easier and she would have easier access to meeting them physically instead of having to manipulate the multiple connections of the agency. She could feign ignorance; pretend she didn’t know what was happening. Making up her mind, she began typing.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _Hello…_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Gahhhh it’s talking!!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _So, it’s not two smartphones._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Who is it?_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Find out what it is!_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _How did you find out about this  
>  place? Where did you download this application?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Oh… ^^; Wait._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Just found out something weird._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _What is it. Hurry and tell me._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I traced the IP…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _It’s from Rika’s apartment._

Her breath got caught in her throat. This was no coincidence. Whoever had been following her, whoever had hacked into the phone and whoever had led her here…was connected to the victim. She didn’t dare jump into conclusions just yet, but she wondered if V had anything to do with it. Why would he give her a platform to actively gather information? Lead her to the very source of the entire drama? Or were the members of the organization far too loyal to reveal anything to her? Luciel could easily call the police, but she’d be gone before they even got there. She’d have to report the entire thing, as well. _Ugh, paperwork._

Were they even aware of his actions? They had been targeted for a reason. Their profiles had been given to her for a reason, she could not overlook how suspicious the whole ordeal seemed. And, yet, their reactions seemed almost genuine. They didn’t seem fake, but she couldn’t be certain. She couldn’t see their body language, their faces and mannerisms. It was almost impossible for her to discern the truth from where she was standing, with nothing but text.

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Rika’s apartment?_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Where was it?_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang_ ** _: The location is not revealed.  
>  I know it to be classified._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Anyways, someone must have broken into  
>  her apt._
> 
> **_707_ ** _: It talked just now, so it must be a person ^^;_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _So, it hacked the program, Seven?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Yup_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Who are you?! How did you get into  
>  Rika’s apartment?!_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _How did you get this app?!_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Gah – so scared right now…_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _I thought the apartment has  
>  a passworh lobk?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Typo_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I assume it was a break in._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Username "Calypso", I recommend that you  
>  confess._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Jaehee, would you voluntarily confess  
>  to everything if it were you?_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _No. But it is good to ask first._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Lolol_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Quit shitting around._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Calypso…who are you?_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Reveal yourself, stranger._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _If you do not reveal yourself,  
>  you will pay._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Stranger you will pay? Lmfao_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _omg – so scary –_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _It might be a girl._

It amused her to see that even though in the face of a very serious matter, they continued to bicker amongst themselves. Zen wasn’t far from the truth; she would give him that much. Although, it seemed as if they didn’t truly understand what was going on.

> **_707:_ ** _That’s sexist lol. U should watch what u  
>  say now that ur a famous actor._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I’m not famous ;; just a bit recognizable._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Nah – Look at the youtube hits –_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Dude. Stawp;;_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _lolol_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _That video is still excellent no  
>  matter how many times I watch it._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Zen, when do you start your next piece?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Don’t know. It’s up to the director._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _He’s a celebrity lol! I’m gonna tell  
>  everyone at school._

She felt the tension leaving her body and chuckled to herself at how easily they had gotten distracted. Was this mean to throw her off? Were they always like this? Is this what it felt like to have friends instead of co-workers? She had never been given the opportunity to bond with the other agents, for she was barely assigned missions that required a partner. It was almost strange to her, seeing normal human interaction.

 _What a fucking tragedy._ She chuckled to herself. It was really depressing how she was able to wrap anyone around her finger, to manipulate and lead with unnatural ease; but it was all calculated. Nothing was ever genuine, everything was transactional. The only genuine relationships in her life were both her adoptive fathers, and they didn’t exactly qualify as the people she could talk about her trash _Tinder_ date with. Even though, most of the time, she ended up telling them about it anyway and they gossiped over a glass of wine and chocolate.

> **_Jumin Han:_** _Hey._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Don’t get distracted._

They continued to argue, but she took notice of 707’s words about hacking. For a moment, she heeded _A_ ’s warning. This was the one person she had to be wary of. He was the only one capable of discovering she wasn’t who she said she was. She noticed the clear signs of hacking on her phone but decided to pretend she couldn’t really tell what they were, for the sake of not being discovered. Her hand itched to fight it back, to block his intrusion. 

To stop him from invading her search history of _Tasty_ recipes, best fluffy cheesecakes in Seoul, puppy videos, bikini waxes and possible cancer.

> **_707:_ ** _If it doesn’t say anything, I’ll hack in  
>  and find out._

Well, there was no other way to avoid this. She would begin planting the seeds of her information harvest _._ She had to carefully think of the way she’d interact with each of them, adapting her personality and words to please them and gain their trust. It wouldn’t be too hard, she was used to it.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _My name is Calypso. Who are you all and what  
>  is this place?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Lol so awkward._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I thought it was a computer talking._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Seems more normal than I thought._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _What were you thinking?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _…Nothing…nothing._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Should we…introduce ourselves?_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Are you serious…?_

Despite Jumin’s and Jaehee’s objections, every member introduced themselves. Some of them willingly, some of them had their information divulged without their permission. She found herself staring at Zen’s picture for longer than she should’ve, but she forced herself to shrug it off as attraction to the man, _this was not the damn time_. She laughed at their antics, even the cat information had amused her. These were real people, not just inked words on paper, not just a few pixels on her screen.

 _And they could be dangerous_ , she reminded herself.

> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I suggest that we take care of this  
>  stranger first._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Could it be that we have a security breach?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _True. Calypso, how did you get in here?_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Is it really in Rika’s apartment?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Yup. It’s for sure…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _How did it get the apartment password?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Where the hell is this apartment?_

Annoyed at being called an “it”, she replied. She was a human being, not a robot! Well…at least where it counted.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _I am flustered too. I was connected  
>  to a stranger through a messenger app and he sent  
> me the address. I don't know anything else beyond  
> what I've already told you._

They stated their opinions until 707 intervened, her message clearly resonating with him. It evidenced a weakness in their system. If he was as dangerous as she had been told, he couldn’t have that. It wasn’t exactly ideal for random strangers to be able to enter a private chatroom. But she wasn’t just a random stranger now, was she? She had been led here.

> _**707:** Wait._
> 
> _**707:** Do u have that person’s username or chat record?_

Well, there was no time like the present to tell the truth. For now, there was no point in lying. She didn’t know how she had gotten here herself, beyond the obvious. Both Luciel Choi and her would have to figure it out. The winner took it all.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _The username was “Unknown”.  
>  And the record was deleted._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Does the username not exist?  
>  Why is it “Unknown”?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I made it impossible to log in without  
>  setting a username._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Nothing’s in the log…_

She let them hypothesise until 707 directed his attention back to her. If she had been in his place, she would’ve freaked out as well. She supposed the security system of his application wasn’t as good as he thought it was. Either that, or the hacker who had graciously thrown her in this mess was really good.

> **_707:_ ** _A hacker! No way._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I have everything covered._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Hey, Calypso. So, he told you the password  
>  for the door lock?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Yes, he did._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _I see…_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _That “Unknown” person could have  
>  dragged you into this._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _But…_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _How did you end up chatting with that person?_

Truth be told, she didn’t know how the person managed to hack into her phone. She told herself to be careful, to not let her guard down. Whoever had done it, they had hacking abilities few people had – including herself. It was no easy feat to achieve what they had done. It would take an average hacker hours, that much was certain. They had done it in just a few minutes.

> **_707:_ ** _Anyways._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I should trace the person who distributed  
>  the app._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _If what she’s saying is true._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I think it would be a good idea to  
>  contact V._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Yeah. I think that’s a good idea._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’ll call and explain everything._

She had to shake her head to make sure what she was reading was real. She remembered _A_ telling her 707 was close to both the victim and her fiancé, but she thought they didn’t keep in contact anymore after her death. Nothing seemed to fit into the puzzle correctly. The lines were blurred beyond any information she was provided. But, first things first…

> **_Calypso:_ ** _What is this chatroom for?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Can I, at least, know that?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I genuinely didn't mean  
>  to intrude. I didn't ask to be here._

Even though their bickering was endearing, she needed answers. She needed to seem harmless. They kept on talking about V, and their opinions clearly let her know that they had divergent opinions about him. If she could find a way to get in contact with him, finding out what happened to Rika would be a piece of cake. It stuck to her, though, were they trying to throw her off with their reactions?

> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Until we figure out who Calypso is_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _I don’t want to reveal anything._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I agree._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Wecan._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Sorry callingandtypingwithonehand_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Type after you finish the call._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Lookedintoownerofdevice_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _she’scutelol_

Her blood ran cold when she read his dishevelled sentences. He had been able to obtain her information quickly – and that told her just how good he was at what he did. She wondered if he had somehow accessed her camera, and instantly masked her emotions in case he had, or if he had looked into the fake documents _A_ had procured. There was not a single mistake in them, no way of letting him know they were fake.

She lifted her gaze slowly and noticed the camera on the roof’s corner. She cursed under her breath.

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _You did a background check on her?! So,  
>  Calypso is definitely a girl?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _You’re not violating my…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Itolduimahacker_

Instantly, he was bombarded with questions about her. Zen asked for a picture of her and she was really tempted to send it, because it sounded like a _good_ idea at the time, until she was stopped dead in her tracks by the alert that popped on her screen.

> _V has entered the chatroom._

She waited until he spoke, paying little to no attention to the messages the rest of the members were sending, her years of training kicking in. This could be her only chance; she couldn’t waste it.

> **_V:_ ** _I’m already logged in._

Her heart skipped a beat, she had almost been able to hear his voice just from the message alone.

The members began questioning him and she stored all the information that could prove relevant to her mission inside of her head: no one knew where the apartment was _but_ 707 and V, no one knew the password _but_ 707, the apartment was V's – not Rika’s, she was sitting on a fucking goldmine of information because the computer inside of the apartment contained classified data about the organization; and if she tried to touch anything that was remotely sensitive – like trying to force a drawer open, an alarm would ring. The rest of it? She already knew it from the report.

V also convinced them that Rika must’ve wanted her there to continue her work, despite the members being very vocal of their disagreement.

It was suspicious, how he had come up with such a perfect bullshit excuse. Any normal person would’ve called the police. He must’ve wanted her there. The odds were not leaning in his favour. He was the person with the most reasons to lead her there. She was supposed to be a journalist, what had made the difference between her and the wedding planner? The reporter? He had no means of knowing who or what she was.

Both he and Luciel kept on explaining to her how she’d manage the party. They had barely asked for her consent. He was making her an accomplice by linking her to the party planning, to the rest of the members and himself. If she had been who she said she was, he could’ve easily connected her to the crime, dragged her down with him. He was smarter than she originally thought.

This was not her average target.

Everything that she needed to do was linked to the app installed on her phone. It dawned on her that he was the leader and that he was, without a doubt, hiding something. They trusted him almost blindly. They had agreed to let her stay in that apartment without knowing who the fuck she was. What if she had been an average person? What if she had said no and left?

They welcomed her into the RFA as a new member on his request, and she would have to play along if she wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

So, Calypso was stuck with planning a fundraising party.

And tracking down V.

* * *


	5. Dreams Tonite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I saw you on the street, would I have you in my dreams tonight? 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or comment. 
> 
> Enjoy.

* * *

_“The beginning is the most  
important part of the work.”  
\- Plato_

* * *

After every member had logged off, she was left sitting on a settee inside of the home of a dead woman, trying not to think about how wrong it was. Calypso locked her phone and placed it on top of her lap. Night had already cloaked the dotted sky, and the temperature had significantly dropped. The apartment was silent, the weight of its previous occupant’s death looming in the air. Not even the neighbour’s return was heard, despite the polite woman having been there since 5PM.

She questioned V’s decision to have her become a member of the RFA. The man knew nothing about her beyond what the fake documents said and, yet, he had told her to stay within the apartment and influenced the rest of the members to convince them that her presence was surely not a coincidence – that Rika wanted her, a stranger, to continue on her work. She scoffed at the absurdity of it all. Normally, her job required infiltrating to gather intel, fighting people if it came to it, and eliminating/protecting the target. This was a first in her already dead career.

Aware of the fact that letting herself get comfortable could prove fatal, she vowed to not let her guard down. V’s actions and words indicated that he was hiding something, the rest of the members had said so themselves with sugar coated words. Either he was innocent and someone else was trying to keep her from finding out the truth, or he was the one who led her to this apartment and had her followed.

Should the latter prove to be the truth, he was a dangerous and intelligent man. He was keeping his friends close, but his enemies closer. It was a professional move, she knew that much, keeping her where he and his lapdog could watch her. She was supposed to be a journalist, after all. She had no way of knowing yet, but she’d have to find out. It was, right now, the least of her worries. 

Glancing around the apartment, she searched for the rest of the surveillance cameras first. They were in plain sight: small, inverted plastic domes with a red light indicating they were on. She acquainted herself with the place she’d be staying in, inspecting the rooms for cameras and microphones – and noted that the only rooms without cameras and microphones were the bedroom and the bathroom. She’d have to be careful and stealthy in order to obtain the information stored in Rika’s computer. Without a doubt, 707 would always be keeping an eye on her. He’d be a fool not to.

She entered the bedroom and pulled out the device she used to contact _A_ , notifying him of the turn of events. No response, but she didn’t expect one. The device had many uses, among them the ability to identify hidden cameras and microphones by tracing the signals they emitted. Confirming her findings, she sighed. She’d be watched at all times, so she’d make sure to spend as little time in the apartment as possible, where it was easier to lose the person trailing her. Or she’d have to be extremely careful when doing research, probably spending a lot of time inside of the bedroom.

Making her way back to the living room, she positioned herself in an angle where it would be impossible for the cameras to see what she was doing in front of Rika’s desk. Hacking into her computer would take a considerable amount of time, she calculated, after the device showed her what kind of defence mechanisms had been installed to keep people from obtaining the “sensible information” V had mentioned.

If she was a party planner, she expected to see guest lists, contacts to catering services and whatnot. She expected to run into some average paraphernalia. But the sensible information…she could only guess. Why would Rika keep sensible information unless it was V’s? Was she involved? Had they worked together? Maybe she had tried to warn the police about something, maybe they had disagreed on some things, maybe she was just a victim to his violence.

Her eyes narrowed when the device showed her something she wasn’t expecting to see. She interpreted the images again and again, hoping that what she was seeing wasn’t real. Unable to conceal the gasp that escaped her, she forced herself to try and remain calm. She had encountered many of these situations in her life before, but she had never in her life faced one such as this one. She was supposed to be staying in this damn fucking place. Was this it? Was this how they planned to get rid of her? It was easy, it could easily be written off as an accident if masked well enough. 

Underneath the beautiful wooden floors of the apartment, a bomb was installed – directly linked to the computer.

 _Calm down, calm down, calm down. You’ve defused bombs before; this one is no different. You’ll be okay._ She tried to rationalise. _Who in the actual fuck installs a bomb inside of his fiancée’s apartment?_

Rage clouded her senses and Calypso was more convinced than ever that she had to hunt V down. If he owned the apartment, he knew the bomb was there, he must’ve been the one to install it. He allowed Rika to live there. She couldn’t jump to conclusions, despite wanting to, but all evidence of possible homicide pointed towards him. Had he killed her? If so, why?

Her countenance contorted in fury as she realized who had installed the bomb - he was the only other person who claimed to know where the apartment was. Now, more than ever, she would have to gain advantage over 707. He was dangerous, extremely dangerous if he was in on this.

It made sense, of course, why _A_ had warned her about the agent/hacker. Out of all the members, with the information she had so far, he seemed like the one person to most likely to be V’s accomplice. He had the tools, the knowledge. There was no way a photographer knew how to install a bomb directly connected to the computer. What would’ve happened if she had jumped in headfirst into hacking? She would’ve been blown to pieces. _A_ wouldn’t have been able to bury her.

Besides, it was definitely not the way she wanted to go. She didn’t know how she wanted to die, but she certainly knew that being blown out of existence wasn’t at the top of her list. Maybe an aneurism caused by an orgasm? Death over a mind-blowing orgasm didn’t sound so bad. Neither did dying in her sleep. Hell, even getting shot sounded better than having fire melt her skin to the bone.

The mission had barely begun, and she already wanted it to be over. She wanted to be on a Greek island, sipping some wine while listening to ABBA, maybe running away from three possible baby daddies. Bloody hell, she wanted the whole movie experience. Well...perhaps the baby bit could be omitted. It honestly didn't matter, she just wanted to end it as fast as possible. She had imagined many scenarios for her death, jumping from a plane, racing car crash, exploring the deep ocean, but yeah, a bomb wasn't it, sister. She was stuck wanting anything but staying in an apartment with an explosive.

Credit where credit is due, V was one smart son of a bitch. Incriminating her, making sure she didn’t stick her nose further than she was allowed. It was brilliant.

Pocketing the device, she turned around and pretended to have been dusting the desk. She would have to avoid activating the bomb if she wanted to gain access to the computer and meticulously cover her tracks to avoid detection from V’s lapdog.

If she was going to be stuck living here for who knows how long, she would have to clean the place up. It was almost possible to feel the presence of the dead woman following her around. She didn’t have to get rid of personal belongings, since there were none. She’d also have to call her landlady, to let her know she was no longer going to be staying in the apartment she had rented. It was a pity, since it had been at a perfect location.

Taking off her trench coat and heels, and rolling up her sleeves, she got to cleaning.

She had a chance to chat with Yoosung, Jaehee and Zen after midnight while she was still cleaning the apartment raw. Yoosung trusted her, saying he didn’t think she was a bad person. She had smiled at that, appreciating him seeing light in her. Jaehee had explicitly expressed her distrust towards her, which had made Calypso add another person to the “people to watch out for” list.

Talking to Zen had proven to be a delight. He was as flirty and charming as the report had described him, but he had exceeded all her expectations. She had to learn about all the members, yet she had taken a personal interest to him, there was no use trying to deny it. She could have fun while on her mission. Her goal was, after all, to earn their trust. So, she tried to convince herself she was flirting back for that reason alone.

707 had also called her to check on her number. He was as funny, she had to admit that, as he was dangerously smart. She set a goal to earn his trust as well. She had to get him to lower his defences or, at the very least, trust her enough to not check on her 24/7.

It made her stomach turn, though, every time she had to interact with a possible murderer or accomplice. It shouldn’t have, she knew, for she had blood on her hands as well. She fitted right in, she supposed. She wouldn’t let her guard down, but she’d get him to do so.

Men were particularly easy to manipulate if you knew exactly just how to seduce them. _Never underestimate the power of good pussy._

Ultimately, the only way to gain their trust would be to engage with them on the daily through the chatroom conversations and, at one point, meeting them in person. The messenger app would conveniently allow her to answer their messages regardless of her location.

Once she was certain that the apartment was clean and ventilated, she closed the windows and walked to the bedroom, throwing herself on the surprisingly soft bed and inhaling the fresh aroma of clean bedsheets. She laid on her back, looking up at the ceiling, and allowed the insanity of the whole ordeal to wash over her. Stealing a glance at the clock, she groaned. It was 5AM and she had not slept a wink.

She allowed herself a couple of hours of restless sleep before getting up and making her way towards the bathroom to brush her teeth - luckily, there were spare toothbrushes - and take a shower. With no way of knowing she would be forced to stay in Rika’s apartment, she didn’t think to bring a spare change of clothes, so she changed into the same outfit she had worn the day before.

Greeted by an empty hallway, she reminded herself to purchase her new neighbour a gift in the name of courtesy, since she didn’t know how long she’d be staying there.

Calypso wondered if the receptionist would ask her about her staying there. It wouldn’t be unusual for such an exclusive gated community to have tight security. She approached the front desk in the lobby and smiled at the receptionist.

“Good morning.” She greeted. “I just came to notify you that I’ll be staying in apartment 14-01.”

“Don’t worry, miss Ydenn. The owner called last night to let us now.” He replied, eyeing her up and down as if she were candy. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Taken aback, she repressed the urge to frown. Well…the man certainly worked fast. He was eager to link her to them. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about getting questioned by the receptionist every time she entered the building. It bothered her that he had her information, but it didn’t come off as a surprise, either. He worked fast, but his lapdog worked faster.

Resisting the curse that threatened to come out of her mouth, she smiled politely. “Thank you.”

She called a taxi and gave directions to the apartment she had barely been able to use. On her way there, her phone pinged with a message notification.

She conversed with both Jumin and 707 about affection and cats – specifically Elizabeth the 3rd. It wasn’t until Jumin left the conversation that she actually had a chance to start gaining 707’s trust. She had supported his jokes so far, so his next message was but an easy way to slither her way in.

> **_707:_ ** _No one knows how affectionate I  
>  can be lol_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Right?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I hope u believe me._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I’ll believe you._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Okay…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Thank you._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Ur a nice person, Calypso!_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’ll peace out now._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I have to work T_T_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _The company’s lucky to have  
>  me as their slave…_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Goodbye._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’ll be waiting until the day we get  
>  to talk again._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _^^_

_707 has left the chatroom_

Throughout her career, she had manipulated more people than she cared to count. It felt wrong, somehow, to be doing it this time. Perhaps it was because the targets were attempting to establish an emotional connection with her. Although, she had certainty of that fact either. It was exhausting.

She had their attention, every ounce of it, and she would try to use it as wisely as she could to avoid leaving emotional trauma after she completed her mission - but some things were easier said than done. They had trained her for this, to dig deep into their psyche in order to bond...or destroy.

Upon arriving at her apartment, she began packing everything she had brought from London – mostly clothing, shoes and hygiene products -. Everything she needed to complete her mission, regarding tools and data storage, was on the agency’s device.

She took it out of her coat and inspected it for a second. It was a strange little glass cube - called _Boxi_ \- that projected small holograms. Technology completely hidden to the rest of the world. Tapping into it, she opened Zen’s file against her better judgement. She should’ve been studying Luciel’s, but…

Something about him called to her. The only analogy she could come up with to describe him was a siren in a storm. She was a sail caught in the middle of it, about to become a castaway in the ruby waters of his eyes. She wanted to get lost in those waves, to be engulfed by them and not come back out. To drown in those blissful waters. It wasn't love, she doubted anyone could fall in love in just a few days, but it was maddening lust. She had not had a lover in months.

Almost selfishly, she wondered if it would be a crime to let herself get lost in the pleasure he could provide. To be guarded from the wind in a corner of his skin, to unpack a universe of their own if they both dared venture into it. To breathe out in pleasure against his winter locks. To think beyond a mission for the last time.

To simmer his gaze and follow the path of courtship. To indulge in caresses that felt like butterflies sneaking their way underneath her clothes. To feel the ghost of a love she didn’t dare dream of because it wasn’t her way of living. He was a beautiful man, and his personality, despite how narcissistic and arrogant it could seem with what little she had seen so far, drew her in. It was a confidence so unlike the one she was used to.

“Don’t get distracted, Calypso.” She whispered to herself sadly as she changed her clothes. “Not again.”

She spent the rest of the day inside of her own apartment, doing research on her laptop and chatting with her new friends, trying to find out more about them. If she was going to catch V, she needed to be ready. She needed to be prepared to bring them all down if they were all involved, although she doubted it. Or maybe, she didn't want to believe it.

As the night began to settle, she packed her laptop with the rest of her things and made her way back to Rika’s apartment.

Calypso was leaning against the passenger door window of the taxi, paying the driver when a limousine drove past them. The streets of the area were normally deserted, since it was a gated community for the 2% who could afford to live in such a luxurious place. It stopped a couple of meters away from her and she raised an eyebrow as two bodyguards exited the vehicle to open the backseat door.

Even though the streetlights didn’t provide a photoshoot kind of lighting, there was no mistaking the man who exited the car. Tall, lean, dark, handsome – oozing arrogance and confidence, old money. The kind of man who had the world bought and in his pocket. He was dangerous and brilliant, she knew that. He was a member of MENSA. A man with an absent mother who decided to pursue her music career after his father divorced her. No amount of money would ever fill that hole, she knew.

The heir to C&R International walked inside of one of the buildings close to her own.

She smirked to herself.

_Interesting._

* * *


	6. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do. So, I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imagining you.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to comment or leave kudos. Both are appreciated. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“All really great lovers are articulate, and  
verbal seduction is the surest road to actual seduction.”  
\- Marya Mannes_

* * *

Watching the limousine and the taxi drive away, Calypso hurried her pace to catch up to Jumin Han. He didn’t know what she looked like, he had absolutely no idea who she was, and she planned to use it to her advantage. She slowed her pace as she crossed the glass doors of his building, her suitcase in hand. The receptionist paid her no mind as she walked towards the elevator – quite possibly because of the expensive clothes she wore -, as she caught up with the dark-haired heir.

He entered the elevator, his attention completely focused on the screen of his phone as he typed furiously. Calypso pulled out her own phone and pretended to be checking her emails as she entered the confined space and the doors closed behind her. The air conditioning making her skin pebble slightly.

There was a red light surrounding the button to the eighth floor, indicating he lived in the penthouse. She placed her suitcase on the ground as silently as she could, trying not to seem suspicious.

“Excuse me.” She said, as she leaned in to press the button to the seventh floor. He took a sharp inhale of breath as her skin _accidentally_ brushed against the fabric of his suit. The slight aroma of her perfume must’ve entered his space, making him all the more aware of her presence within the elevator.

Feeling his gaze on her as she scrolled through her emails, she resisted the urge to smirk. She shifted her weight to her right leg, the movement intended to focus his attention on the curve of her body, the concave line of her hip, and reached for the pocket of her trench coat with her free hand, pressing _Boxi_ – and by muscular memory alone – typed the commands to begin the process of hacking. It was not only the perfect opportunity to introduce herself, but to obtain information.

“I’ve never seen you around here before.” He spoke suddenly, his voice tense and low. “I take it you’re here to exercise?”

So, the seventh floor of the building was a gym. Truth be told, she had pressed that button so she could reveal herself and then leave. She hadn’t known what awaited her beyond the steel doors.

She lifted her gaze from her phone, looking uninterested, and adding a bit of annoyance to her voice. “Am I not allowed to be here?”

His flinch was almost imperceptible, and that was how she knew he wasn’t used to women talking back to him. It didn’t surprise her, men in his position were rarely questioned by those who surrounded them unless they were in an equally powerful area of the _status quo_ or if they honestly didn’t care; she was the latter. She smirked seductively at him as she put her phone away.

“I apologize if I offended you.” He said, trying his best to keep his gaze on her eyes despite how intimidating she seemed. “Seeing people around at this time is…unusual.”

“I see.” She tilted her head to the side, raising a perfect eyebrow at him. “Well, then…my name is Calypso. My pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She offered her manicured hand for him to shake. He hesitated for a second, but took it, the delicate skin of his hand contrasting with the strength of his grip. He held her hand for longer than necessary as he studied her face. His pupils dilated the longer he focused on her. She knew that she must've seemed exotic to him, particularly because of the racial demographic of the country. Perhaps she should've bowed. 

“It is my pleasure. I’m Jumin.” He replied. Despite him giving her his first name, he kept a formal tone. Letting go of her hand, he leaned back against the elevator walls silently as he studied her. He was probably trying to place her, thinking of all the places he could’ve seen her before. It wouldn’t do much good.

“We’re not strangers anymore.” She joked, imitating his actions. She stole a glance at the panel that indicated in which level they were in – level six – and decided as fast as she could on her next words. She’d enjoy this, she _just_ knew it. “But we haven’t been since yesterday, _Mr. Han_.”

The tensing of his body was, then, noticeable as his eyes widened slightly. “What?”

A ping signalled her stop and she bent down slightly to pick up her suitcase, making sure he got a good glimpse of her cleavage. If she was going to eventually get information out of him in person, she needed to make sure he desired her enough to cloud his judgement. It was a classic and simple move. “I highly doubt there’s many women in Seoul named Calypso...don’t you think?”

He seemed to be struggling with his words, which she assumed was a rare occurrence. His mind was probably running at a thousand miles per second as he attempted to come up with the right question, his mind fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. “Is Rika’s apartment…?”

Calypso stepped out of the elevator, swaying her hips seductively as she did, the sound of her heels clicking against the marble floors. With her back to him, she turned her head back to look at him and winked playfully. “It’s nearby.”

The doors closed in his face before he could reach his hand out.

Once the panel above the doors displayed the number eight, she hurried towards the emergency stairs, and closed the door behind her, not wanting him to know where she went in case he decided to follow her. She went down all the way to the third floor before she pulled out _Boxi_.

“Fuck yes!” She whispered to herself in celebration. The device had successfully hacked into his phone, and she would now be able to access the data within. She’d be able to listen in on his phone calls and track him. Read emails, intercept messages, etc. It was a goldmine if he was also involved in the disappearance of Rika. According to their profiles, he was the member with the closest relationship to her suspect. If anyone, besides 707, could be connected, it was him.

She wondered absentmindedly, as she reached the lobby and exited the building to make her way to her own, if she had opened Pandora’s box by revealing her face to him. He now knew what she looked like and that Rika’s apartment was close to where he lived. It hit her, then, the fact that the profile reports given to her by A had the address of their residences.

She knew where everyone but 707 and V lived.

Scolding herself for not noticing that she was in the same area where he lived when she first got here, she made her way back to Rika’s apartment. Or should she start saying her own apartment? It didn’t feel right. But it also didn’t feel right to say she was living in the home of a dead woman. She’d settle for _the_ apartment.

As soon as she entered the residence, her phone rang. Her royal garnet lips parted in surprise when she read the caller ID. Unexpectedly, it wasn’t Jumin calling her, but Zen.

“Hey, where are you?” His smooth voice broke through the speaker, disrupting the silence of the apartment.

Confused, she replied. “Uhm…I’m at the apartment.”

“What are you talking about? What apart…” He interrupted himself, probably realizing his mistake as he looked down at his phone's screen. “Huh? I’m sorry! What was I saying to a newcomer? I’m so sorry!”

She held back a smile as she walked to the bedroom, placed the suitcase on the bed and the phone between her ear and her shoulder so she could free her hands. She began taking her belongings out of the suitcase and finding a new place to store them.

“I was trying to call someone else, but I dialled the wrong number…sorry! Seven told me your number earlier, so I saved it. I hope you don’t mind. All the members have your number just in case.”

Laying on her back with her long legs hanging from the mattress, deciding she’d leave the rest for later, she closed her eyes, listening to the melodical sound of his voice. She was surprised at how pleasant it was, how… _attractive_. Fuelling whatever fantasies her mind dared to come up with, she wondered what he’d sound when he was caught in the passionate embrace of a lover.

“Well, since we’re on the phone already, let’s talk. You have a beautiful voice...do you have any questions? I can answer whatever you want. Maybe about the RFA? I'm sure you must be confused about this whole thing.”

She thought about his words for a second, about how nice it was to be offered up such things freely, and then spoke up. “I do...can I ask you anything?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright, then.”

“It’s okay, ask me anything. I’m an open book!” He laughed.

She smiled despite herself. It was a pleasant sound. “What kind of person is Yoosung?”

“Yoosung? Hm – he’s completely addicted to this game called LOLOL – I honestly don’t get it, but I see the appeal. He’s the youngest out of all of us, and he’s in college. I think he’s studying to become a vet.”

Digging information from the members themselves was one of the reasons she was so determined to gain their trust, so she decided to question him about all of them. He had offered, after all. It would also give him his unique perspective.

“What about Seven?”

He chuckled, the vibrations echoing through the line sinfully. Her smile slowly merged into a grin unconsciously. She hadn’t meant for it, it had just come naturally to her. _It was strange._

“I think _alien_ is the best way to describe him. He’s always so hyper. But he’s really good at what he does – although I’m not exactly sure what that is. I heard he’s the best hacker in the industry. That’s all I know, though.”

“What about Jaehee?”

“Jaehee…Jaehee is very hardworking. She even manages to deal with those strange cat projects Jumin comes up with. Seriously, she’s the definition of patience.”

Smirking as she recalled Jumin’s gaze on her, she asked. “And Jumin?”

“Ugh – him? He’s the CEO in line for this huge company, but he’s a jerk. So, don’t get close to him! Ever! Just ignore him. And try not to talk to him. Okay?”

She giggled at his adorable display of emotions. So, beyond their bickering within the chatroom, they didn’t get along particularly well. She archived that for later, as well. Biting her lip, she lowered her voice to a flirtier tone. “What kind of person do you think you are, Zen?”

“I’m a perfect man – seriously, there’s no other way to describe me. I’m handsome, I can act, I can sing, I can dance…I’m basically perfect. I’m like a bard who's always ready to serenade for a lady.”

The intention of his last comment didn’t go unnoticed. “Oh, really?”

“Oh, wait!” He interrupted. “I’m perfect except for the fact that it’s been years since I’ve dated, so I’m super lonely now.”

“Are you really?” She asked huskily, her interest piqued and her imagination running wild. She had to stop herself, she couldn’t keep thinking with her libido.

“Well? Are you interested now?” He asked teasingly, his voice lowering slightly. “Which reminds me, this phone call was a complete accident, but it’s not awkward at all. Good. It’s not easy to find someone I can talk to without torturing my head. Maybe fate wanted us to meet.”

Opening her eyes, she tried to picture him stumbling over his words. It wasn’t easy, seeing as she only knew the confident side of him. Albeit, she found it endearing to think of him struggling with his words. She held onto the last sentence like a schoolgirl. Perhaps fate did want them to meet. Every action they had ever taken had led them to this moment. To her laying down in bed with a huge grin plastered on her face and his voice surrounding her like a python suffocating her neck.

“Mmm – maybe I should be thankful for my fingers.” He mocked a chef’s kiss and laughed softly.

 _Oh, believe me, I’ll be thankful for them, too._ She thought to herself. _Ugh, I need to get laid. I can’t keep thinking like this._

“Maybe we should talk more.” She suggested, the intention subtly laced behind friendliness.

He hummed to himself, the sound making a chill run down her spine. “That sounds good, I’d really like that.”

“I’d really like that too. I’m looking forward to it.”

He laughed nervously and she heard the way he scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t say things like that…save my number, okay? That way, we’ll get to talk beyond the messenger.”

She laughed along and toned down the sexual energy of the conversation. “I’m really excited to get to know you. I really hope we get closer.”

It was almost impossible not to hear the smile that spread on his face at her statement.

“You’re a bold woman, did you know that? I like it.”

Chuckling, she ran her fingers down her neck almost unconsciously, as if she were trying to coax her mind into playing with her body. It was desire spreading through her veins hotly, like lava in trailing down the surface of a volcano just before it burned everything in its path. The fate of Pompeii ringing in the back of her consciousness as a caveat she decided to ignore for as long as she could without compromising her mission. “Believe me, I do.”

“It was fun talking to you. Let’s call often, okay? If you want to listen to a serenade, call me anytime. I’ll prepare a number just for you, I promise.”

“I might have to take you up on that offer.” She joked, shaking her head even though he couldn’t see her.

“I hope you do. I’ve got to go now…bye!”

He hung up, leaving her in company of the apartment’s solitude. Replaying the conversation in her mind, she held onto the sound of his voice. To say that he hadn’t been plaguing her mind since she saw his picture on his profile would be lying. She wondered if it would be her downfall once again. Her weakness for beauty. Even _A_ had noticed.

Throughout her life, she had lingered in the idiosyncrasy of games and distractions, her job allowing her no more. You’d think she knew how to fuck something innocent and naïve without leaving her fingerprints embedded into the skin she caressed. Skin, much to her surprise, turned out to be like sand, no matter how much she tried to avoid leaving any trace of her touch, it captured it without any hesitance. Almost as if it wanted to be tarnished and corrupted. A blank canvas juxtaposed with a volatile palette. The greatest of jokes to someone who claimed not to love, but desperately, willingly and powerfully desired it.

There was something seductive about people. Something about the philosophic anthropology that defined genders that made them so attractive to her. She had always been fascinated by people. By their language, personalities and individualism. The themes that made them so curious, so delicious for knowledge and experience. Their perceived place in the universe, the human singularity, their will, their fear of death.

If she had to choose the most important lesson she had learned from her job, it would be that there was no death that didn’t generate memory. No death that didn’t leave something to be grasped, to be learned, to be rejoiced behind. It was their mortality that drove them with an insatiable lust for life, for something truly worth the struggle.

With silent heart strings unpulled, blurring horizons, defied postures, high ceilings that seemed so low, and a possessive bed, she allowed her fingers to slowly travel towards the spot between her legs and sighed out in pleasure at the contact.

Moving her index finger in circles around her nerves, she threw her head back and moaned silently. And as she pictured blood red eyes looking into hers as he moved, soft gasps escaping his lips with his faced buried in the crook of her neck, buried to the hilt inside of her – she knew he would end up in her bed, it was only a matter of time. She inserted a finger in herself, whispering unintelligible words in every language she knew. She desired his own hands, not her own.

Gasping she added another digit, thinking of the bruises his hands would leave on her hips. Of her walls clenching around him desperately. Her fingers moved in and out slowly, teasingly, and her other hand caressed her body.

She wanted him, every inch inside of her, to make him feel as good as the image of him had made her feel. And as she imagined his lips turning into a tight line as he came, his eyes closed, she reached her own climax with the force of a wave crashing against a cliff.

Chuckling as she came down from her high, she pulled her fingers out and watched the arousal coating them. She closed her eyes, letting her arm hang from the edge of the bed and tried to regain her breath. Ruminating, she came to the conclusion that she just needed to get fucked. She couldn’t imagine her suspects like this – it had caused her to make mistakes in the past that she could never take back. She had to get him off her system.

Certainly, she couldn’t be this pathetic. She couldn’t go around lusting after a man who could very well be involved in a crime. A man she’d possibly have to lock away and allow to rot behind bars. That was, if she wasn’t forced to pull the trigger.

“Just look at what you’ve done to me.” She whispered to the darkness watching her, bringing her fingers to her mouth and licking the sweet taste of herself clean.

It would take measured steps and a reinforcement of the metal walls surrounding her heart, but she’d get him to mark every inch of her. Even if it was just for one night.

In the meantime, she had a job to do.

* * *


	7. Ashes of Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me, don't let me go; because there's nothing left at all. Stay with me, don't let me go until the ashes of Eden fall.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“You don’t need water to feel like  
you’re drowning, do you?”  
\- Jodi Picoult_

* * *

The dark cloak of fatigue underneath his eyes was starting to weigh him down as he desperately read numbers and letters as fast as he could, typing whatever was needed and trying to avoid a panic attack at the same time. He stopped for a second, reaching for the almost empty can of soda next to his monitor and brought it to his lips, gulping the remnants of the soft drink. The air burned down his throat as it reached his stomach, reminding him of the fact he had not eaten.

Glancing at the clock, Luciel let out a sigh. It was almost noon. He had been awake for over 49 hours, and he knew his performance was deteriorating. He had been entering brief periods of unconsciousness, almost in a narcoleptic sort of way. Soon enough, his body would give up and he’d pass out. He just had to make sure it wasn’t while he worked on something important.

He knew he was punishing himself for the security breach, pushing himself to find out how the beautiful woman who now resided in Rika’s old apartment had been able to enter if no one but him knew the password – no one that was alive, at least. He knew he was trying to prove himself that he wasn’t a failure, that his work was good enough. And, yet, someone had managed to break every security mechanism he had installed to protect the former tenant. Someone had tampered with the RFA Messenger and her home. So far, the only anomaly had been Calypso being there by the hacker’s grace. It didn’t make sense. The security system he had installed in her apartment was the most complex project he had worked on to this day. He had spent weeks working on it, making sure it was impenetrable.

And whoever had led her there, because both V and Luciel knew it wasn’t Rika’s ghost, was good at their job. They had left no trace, absolutely nothing to track. There was nothing. He wondered why V had let her stay instead of asking her to leave. It didn’t make sense, but he had no choice but to trust him. He had never failed him, he had no reason to start now.

If Calypso had not been there, he wouldn’t have noticed at all. The breach would’ve probably gone unnoticed unless the hacker had triggered alarms. And they hadn’t. He should’ve noticed, he was a failure, how in the hell did he not notice? It was his job; he made a living out of this. Was he losing his touch? Or had it not been there at all in the first place? Was he just losing his mind? It had to be a prank, a joke. There was no way anyone could access it. And, yet, someone had.

When he pressed the enter key, an error popped up on his screen.

“Fuck!” He growled, hitting the surface of his desk, making the objects on top of it rattle.

Forcing himself to remain calm, he reviewed the code he was making and identified the error in it.

Anger started bubbling up inside of his chest when he realized it was a rookie mistake. 

He should’ve been better than this. All he did was keep on fucking up. He had missed a number. A fucking number. How could he have been so stupid? Maybe that was it, maybe he was just stupid. Maybe he faked all the hacking skills he had, maybe he was tired of pretending that the missions he completed were good enough for him to be happy. Maybe he didn’t stay late at night praying to God to just end it all, to let him rest, to let him close his eyes and remain in dreamland for as long as he was allowed to. He was tired…so tired.

Successfully completing a mission in the past had been everything he needed to feel good about himself, he had gotten the validation he had missed during his entire childhood. It had proven he had actual use, that people needed him. Lately, nothing felt the same. It hadn’t felt the same for a couple of years now. No matter how many jokes he played on Yoosung, no matter how many cars he bought, no matter how many hours he spent scrolling through meme websites, no matter who he slept with to chase away the pain and replace it with ephemeral pleasure, no matter the amount of hours he spent training his body to the point of breaking, no matter how many times he prayed. Even his favourite chips and soda weren’t the same anymore. He consumed them more out of habit than anything else.

It wasn’t until a drop of water landed on the surface of his desk that he realized he was crying. It had been years since the last time he had shed tears. He had always kept his feelings locked away, forcing them down inside a glass jar and keeping it tightly closed. He supposed it would eventually overspill, if not break.

Once he noticed he was crying, he was unable to hold the pain filled droplets back. They overflowed out of him, his feelings physically manifesting after so much time of being bottled up. Sob after sob wrecked his chest, the pain on his heart driving his hands to fist the fabric of his shirt. He took off his glasses, the fogged-up glass preventing him from seeing.

"Oh, God..." He choked out, his palms rubbing his eyes. He was alone.

He walked to his bed, and laid down, pulling the covers on top of him. The memories of times past rushed through every synaptic connection in his brain, every hit – whether it be physical or emotional – drowning his mind, the pain and burn ghosted over his now pale and blemish-free skin. Guilt surrounding his throat like a python, taking his breath with it as it swallowed his head whole. He was trapped underneath the surface of an ocean of regret, of pain, of things he’d rather forget and things that he never could. He wondered if he would ever get a final warning, if his body would give up along with his heart one day.

Recalling it was easy, almost far too easy. The feeling of his brother’s arms around him, his trembling and starving body, those big doe, golden eyes filled with tears. The screams, the hits he took to protect his brother and the one’s he couldn’t take for him. The feel of a belt burning his back and the ache left by the purple bruises who joined the Jason Pollock-like painting of coloured abuse evidence. The nights spent with a rumbling stomach and a million dreams that felt like home – thinking that’s all it was going to take to save them, thinking it was enough to pull them back into the reality of world they had imagined. The stench of alcohol, vomit and rotten food lingering in the air. The shadow in the dark than ran her hand through their hair almost lovingly and then disappeared – a mirage of his mother and the woman she had been before their father. It was divine, her love, when they had it at times.

She had been beautiful before alcohol took her. With beautiful red hair and eyes so green they resembled a forest. They had marvelled at the photos hidden away along with the woman she had been. She seemed so far away compared to the skeleton poisoning itself in the living room, surrounded by bottles like a twisted pentagram. It was a maze of glass and liquid suicide. The choice of the cowardly. Had they only been a means to add another zero to her bank account so she could drown herself in a pool of ethylic? He liked to convince himself they weren’t but the chemical reaction of his body to those memories only strengthened the belief that they had.

When he thought about those highly charged experiences, his brain fired the exact patters and sequences it had then; firing and wiring itself to the past by reinforcing those circuits into ever more hardwired networks. It duplicated the same chemicals in the brain and body – in varying degrees – as if he was experiencing the event in that moment; training his body to further memorize the emotions. It conditioned his mind and physical form into a finite set of automatic programs.

His body remembered better than his conscious mind, his body was his mind.

But the truth lied.

And yet, the bad memories weren’t the ones that hurt. It was the good ones. It was sitting on the floor beside his twin, reading a programming book together. It was laying on their beds and pretending they could see constellations on an empty ceiling – pretending they were on the International Space Station. It was the stories he made up to lull him to sleep. It was the shadow animals he made with his fingers and cut out pieces of paper to make him laugh. It was hearing his brother say he loved him, and they would always be together. It was knowing he had promised to never leave him, to always protect him and love him because they were bound by more than just the fact that they were twins. It was playing make believe and pretending they were kings saving the kingdom from an evil threat.

It was sharing ice cream and seeing the night sky for the first time together after sneaking out.

It was him leaving. Being absorbed in a world that wasn’t his own and doing it to protect his twin. It was having said goodbye in the middle of the night as he slept and forcing himself not to look back because if he did, he would’ve returned to gather that tiny boy in his arms.

They had taken and travelled different paths, and he didn’t know where his brother was. He had almost forgotten his baby face. Part of him knew it would be impossible not to recognize his twin. They mirrored each other, a reminder that they were two halves that still sought each other out. Always looking for each other like parallel lines, destined to never meet.

He loved his brother. He still loved his brother with everything he had in his broken heart. He would cover him, take a bullet for him. He would give him his lungs if he were drowning in the same ocean of misery. They went deeper than the blood that ran beneath the tissue of their veins.

Not knowing whether he had failed on always keeping his brother warm and safe killed him on the inside. He had refused any information about his brother’s whereabouts, knowing that it was the best way to protect him – but it burned into his eyelids...the missed opportunity to see him again. The opportunity to talk and bond, to be a family once again, no matter how broken.

A trembling breath escaped him as he decided on finally getting some rest. It would only be a couple of hours, he promised himself. He couldn’t go on like this, it was far too much.

After Rika’s death, he could only guess V was keeping an eye on his brother, but he really didn’t know. Sometimes, he thought that V was buried along with Rika – he was bereft of the life that he had so willingly welcomed Luciel into. He was on autopilot, his mind wandered along mental paths he couldn't access, a road untravelled by anyone but him.

> _I felt a funeral in my brain, and mourners to and fro, kept treading – treading – till it seemed that sense was breaking through. And when they were all seated, a service like a drum kept beating – beating – till I thought my mind was going numb. And then I heard them lift a box, and creak across my soul with those same boots of lead again, then space – began to toll. As all the heavens were a bell, and being, but an ear. And I, silence, some strange race, wrecked, solitary, here -. And then a plank in reason broke, and I dropped down, and down – and hit a world, at every plunge, and finished knowing – then._

And now, he was left looking into the person who led Calypso into the apartment because V was worried. He wondered what was so sensible about the documents inside of it. What could possibly be so destructive that Rika had ordered him to plant a bomb in order to protect them? Had she been willing to die for that information? So willing to end it?

Then there was Calypso, _she that conceals_. After her sudden appearance on the chatroom, he had taken it upon himself to find out who she was. He had not known what to expect, but he had certainly not expected the woman who showed up in the pictures and documents he had seen.

The first thing he noticed was that she was absolutely beautiful, there was a divine, exotic beauty to her. He read about her past, about the death of her parents, about her graduating from one of the most prestigious universities in the planet. He had read absolutely everything he had been able to find. She had no social media, so he guessed she was a private person like him.

He was fascinated by her, that much was certain, drawn like a moth to a deadly flame. Albeit he wasn’t certain why, be it her looks, her past or that mean tongue of hers when she talked to them through the chatroom – he was hooked on the magnetic attraction that called everything to her. She was also funny, which was a big plus on his book. In a world of darkness surrounded by the thick presence of nothingness.

And yet, that was all he could ever allow himself. He couldn’t get close to anyone; he couldn’t wish for something beyond the platonic interest he held for her. He would put her in danger, he didn’t deserve her. He couldn't even reach for his brother.

 _As if I could ever have her_. He mentally scoffed, frowning. _I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I shouldn’t._

His face was already dry from the tears that had cascaded into the small pond in his pillow. Thinking about her had distracted him long enough to compartmentalize the painful memories of kin gone and almost forgotten.

Still, if he couldn’t have her – he could at least become her friend and protect her as best as he could. It was all he would ever be able to have. He was a defender of the justice he had been taught, a protector. He decided to get some rest before getting back to work, before shutting his mind down and focusing solely on what he had to do, not on what he wanted to do or have. He didn't have that luxury.

He sniffed, wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweater, and reached for his phone, unlocking it and opening the messenger.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _Hey, 707!_

A small smile crept on his lips, barely noticeable but enough to feel alien on his face. It was so bizarre, to feel the happiness and light that came from just two words written by a woman he barely knew. Perhaps it was the loneliness, the novelty of it all.

> **_707:_** _Hey, Calypso!_
> 
> **_707:_** _I see that cutie Yoosung was looking for me!_
> 
> **_707:_** _I was just too busy in the morning to log in…_
> 
> _707: I guess he missed me lol_
> 
> **_Calypso:_** _I bet, lol_
> 
> **_Calypso:_** _Are you close with Yoosung?_
> 
> **_707:_** _Not just Yoosung, I’m close with all  
>  the members –_

On a whim, he began writing his next sentence. He could allow himself this much. Only this much. Nothing more.

> **_707:_** _I’m sure I’ll get close with u soon lol_

_ZEN has entered the chatroom._

His heart dropped – the fantasy broken. Luciel wasn’t stupid, he had seen the messages Calypso had exchanged with the young actor so far. There was a clear attraction that could not be denied. A glimmer of something he knew would eventually come and take the light he had barely managed to trap so he could keep for himself. Selfishly, he wanted her to be his.

Through the cameras and microphones installed in Rika’s apartment, he had made sure to check on her every 2.35 seconds. He had tried to convince himself it was only because he was protecting her, because he dared not fly too close to the sun – knowing his wings would melt under the heat of such beguiling energy.

And even though she spent most of the day replying to emails and trying her best to plan the party, alternating between the living room – where he could see her – and the bedroom – where he could only wonder what she was doing, he was aware of the calls and flirty words exchanged between them. He had heard and read.

Part of him knew that if any of the members had a chance of establishing some sort of relationship beyond friendship with her, it was Zen. He was a charming and attractive man, and even though he had his own set of demons, they weren’t nearly as vicious as his own. Not nearly as dangerous and destructive.

He could never possess the light, surrounded by darkness. He would smother her, kill it. She had her own demons, what good would two broken people do? They could bond in their misery, but she deserved better than that. She deserved someone like the young actor. They both deserved to shine so brightly the rest of the world would go blind. A love that most people only read of.

Perhaps he’d get his light back one day. He’d shine on his own, enough to light up an entire room and his own heart. He was missing a part of himself, but he’d make do. One day, when he shone, he'd find someone who did too. 

For now, he was darkness dressed as a hint of sunlight.

And, Luciel?

He was okay with it.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the poem "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain" by Emily Dickinson.


	8. Late Night Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart keeps pulling in the wrong direction, I'm about to cross that line. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“I am a hopeless, shameless flirt.”  
\- Elizabeth Wurtzel_

* * *

Time had seemed to fly past her like a migrating bird leaving the winter chill behind, looking for the warmth of a different land, a new story. In her line of work, exceptional interpersonal skills were a must. Such skills opened paths were shyness never could. Answering emails for the RFA party had proven to test them, since she was dealing with all sorts of characters – different personalities, ranging from age to talent to class. It was interesting and entertaining, having never stumbled into people who needed her to answer personal questions in order to attend a charity party.

Not only that, but she had been contacting various catering services – deciding between traditional Korean food, Italian or French -, flower shops, and even a small orchestra. She had gotten more into the planning than she cared to admit. She liked it. The contracts were still hanging in the air, since V had yet to confirm that the party would be held.

The opportunity to talk to him once again had arisen, and he had revealed information that she had been looking for. She had suspected that Luciel had been watching her and trying to find out how and who had led her to the apartment and V had told her that she’d be safe, that they were doing their best to protect her and guarantee her safety. She'd be watched at all times. Had she not been an agent, she wouldn’t have noticed the threat underneath the words of the man.

She also took notice of the way he talked about his dead fiancée, of the regret in every sentence. He had said that if he could turn back time, he would’ve done everything differently. Unable to decipher the meaning of his words, she had retreated to the bedroom, where Luciel wouldn’t be able to see her, and spent the day researching him – following the trails that the missing reporter and wedding planner had left.

It wasn’t long before she hit a dead end, unable to find anything else. He was bloody good at covering his tracks, he was good at misleading whoever tried to investigate him. He was good at pretending he was actively looking to form an emotional bond with her, a bloody stranger, when he finally had the strength to begin socializing. His mask would eventually crack, she knew. For now, he was an enigma. A moment in life that came and went, a riddle or a rhyme that no one knew, a twist of a deadly fate.

The clear symptoms of depression had also manifested themselves, but she had chosen to merely keep an eye on them. They didn’t a serve purpose just yet.

And so, she was left with nothing but the bomb-linked computer inside of the apartment. She had been warned not to tamper with anything, but her job was exactly to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She couldn’t help it, even if she had wanted to.

Then again, she had said the same about the packet of _Oreos_ she had devoured the night before.

The first few hours of breaking down the computer’s defences where excruciating. It was like walking through a mine field, where the slightest misstep would end up in her death – literally speaking. She was aware of the fact that the bomb would go off if the defences detected her attempt at violating the software’s security. She had never been more careful in her life when hacking. More careful, period.

During the time spent hacking, Calypso maintained conversations with the members of the RFA. They had begun to let their suspicions fade away little by little. They had begun to let her in by sharing small bits and pieces of their lives. It was almost endearing, almost cute enough for her to let her own defences down.

She had to remember what she was fighting for, to never forget that momentum was a cruel mistress – she could turn on a dime with the smallest mistake, ever searching for that weak place in her armour, that small thing she forgot to prepare for.

It bothered her, somehow, that Jumin had yet to confront her about having met her. He was good at pretending nothing had happened. He hadn’t called nor sent her a message questioning her. Perhaps he believed it in his best interest not to know more than what he was allowed to. It made sense. He had not emailed nor called V after meeting her. Everything that came into his phone was work or family related.

She scrolled through the chatroom, even though there was no one online. Rereading the messages that had thrown her off, making her determination to break into the computer akin to the body’s need for sustenance when starving. A battle royale between her, her mind, her body and the devil on her shoulder telling her this was just a game, just a waste of time, that she was stronger than her opponents.

> **_707:_ ** _I feel that he may be hiding something_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _but I don’t think that he’s changed a lot._

It baffled her to find out that Luciel didn’t know V’s every move. She questioned just how much the man revealed to the one person he supposedly trusted the most. It made sense, though. There was only so much you could reveal to someone without the fear of betrayal. 

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Seven, did you find the hacker who made  
>  Calypso go to the apartment?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I did try tracing him…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _but didn’t find much._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I kept digging and it seemed…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _to be related to a religious organization._

Slowly, her mind seemed to form the connection; recalling the leads the reporter had managed to obtain. The word _Magenta_ repeatedly written almost pathologically. She had done her best to find out what it was, if it was accessible to the general public. Once she came up empty handed, she had gone into the deepest places of the dark web.

She couldn’t leave the mission to the small amount of luck granted to her when she was given access to the members through the chatroom. Luck was the last dying wish of those who wanted to believe winning could happen by accident. Hard work, on the other hand, was for the ones who knew it was a choice.

Her findings were scarce, but there was a pattern. Every forum, every website, every corner where the word _Magenta_ was associated with religion, an advertisement appeared related to it. A sort of flier depicting a mint green eye. No matter how much she looked into it, there was no further information to be found about it.

She was frustrated. She had gotten in contact with various allies and associates of the agency, trying to find out more about the eye and whatever the fuck _Magenta_ was.

No one knew.

Which meant one of two things: either the religious organization was fairly new, or it didn’t exist at all and it was a cover up for something else – perhaps a human trafficking ring.

At one point, her perspective had narrowed down so much that she forced herself to stop her research. If she became biased, it would only make the investigation much more difficult. She needed to give her mind a rest.

By the time she exited the bedroom, and sneaked a glance at the cameras, the sun was gifting the last of its daylight to the sky.

She pulled out a yoga mat from the supply closet in the apartment and laid it down in the middle of the living room. While she changed into a pair of yoga pants and a loose tank top, her phone pinged with a message notification. 

> **_ZEN:_ ** _Hey, Calypso!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Hey, Zen, are you done with work?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Yup. Done!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Haha…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _It’s a good day!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Why? Did something good happen?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Haha I’ll tell you. Just a sec._

A selfie of him on the train was attached seconds after and she smiled. There truly was a divine, almost godlike beauty to him. It made it increasingly hard for her to ignore how much she wanted him.

> **_ZEN:_ ** _I’m on my way home._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Yoosung’s here? Yoosung, what  
>  are you doing?_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Playing LOLOL_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Stop playing it for a second._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _There was talk about turning a  
>  romance novel into a musical today._

As he happily recounted the day’s events to a distracted Yoosung and her, she felt genuinely happy for him. He had been offered the lead role in a musical about a man who must love one woman to protect his sister. It was an interesting concept, but she was hardly the adequate person to judge. Not when she had enjoyed every second of the trashy gipsy shows she sometimes watched on TV.

She knew how hard it was to flourish in the acting world, especially if you didn’t have the right connections to help you. If the whole thing turned out okay, if he wasn’t involved, she could probably do a little networking for him.

Eventually, Yoosung logged off, claiming his game was more important and she rolled her eyes in amusement. He had a lot to learn about maintaining relationships, regardless of their nature. They were symbiotic, reciprocal. Nothing real was transactional...even though she was used to transactions.

Perhaps she’d have to get into the game to earn his trust. She made a mental note to look into it and purchase a gaming laptop if hers couldn’t take the game. For now, she’d just file it away for later. She returned her attention the actor.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _Do you want me to help you  
>  practice your lines?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Oh! That’s a good idea._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Help me practice my lines when you have time._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _If I read my lines to you…it’ll feel so good. lol_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Then I’ll carry on that excitement_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _and go read the proposal some more now._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Anytime! Just let me know._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Now I’m even more excited._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I’ll be off now ^^_

When the conversation ended, she stepped into the yoga mat and placed her phone in front of her, keeping it upright with a pillow so it wouldn’t slide down. She needed to get her mind focused, to open it up so she could look at her investigation from a different perspective and not miss anything. To allow her sense of self to transcend into a unified sense of oneness with reality.

Freestyling most of her routine, she lost herself in the poses and the transitions. She was playing a new age playlist in the background, to help block out all dissonant thoughts.

_Thoughts about her mind trying to fuck her over. She’d focus on food and…RuPaul’s Drag Race. That was it. It would have to do._

As she neared the end of her practice, she squatted and brought the inner arches of the feet together, widening her knees and planting her palms on the ground. She found integrity as she drew the shoulders away from the ears and the navel up towards the spine, looking forward and lifting both feet from the floor. She focused on her breathing, making sure she didn’t lose balance.

Transitioning into Vrischikasana, she came to a forearm stand and drew her spine into a large curve as she bent her knees and kept her gaze forward. Carefully, her hips and pelvis began to drop forward to hover on top of her head, and her toes touched the crown of her head.

Calypso’s eyes snapped open when her phone began ringing, the lyrics of Nicki Minaj's Super Bass breaking her concentration. It took everything in her not to fall on her face as she stretched her arm towards the phone and pressed the _accept call_ icon on her screen.

“Babe?” Zen’s voice called to her. He had been calling her that, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't like it. It brought a warmth to her chest that she tried to not welcome.

“…Hey!” She gasped out, regaining her balance. “Are you practicing your lines?”

“Are you okay? Did I catch you at a bad time?” He asked, concern etched into every word. “Should I call you later?”

She smiled. “Not really, I’m just doing a little yoga. It’s okay, don’t worry. So, lines?”

“Oh, yes. I was reading the script. There’s a lot of content here. I thought I should at least have the character figured out.” He chuckled lowly. “It’s an interesting character.”

She transitioned out of scorpion pose smoothly and came down to rest on her knees. “That’s good! I’m really happy for you, handsome.”

“Handsome?” He echoed, unsure. The nervousness giving away the pull of his heart towards her.

She giggled, closing her eyes. “Are you not an attractive man? Is it unfitting?”

He laughed, the sound rich and smooth like a fine wine. “I certainly am.”

“Then it’s fitting.” She joked.

“Oh, right!” He exclaimed. “I know that nothing specific has been decided about the party but it’s nice to have a list of guests beforehand. So, I was wondering if you were interested in inviting the romance novel organization. Should I contact them…and tell them to send an email to the RFA?”

Her expression softened and a warm smile graced her features. “You’re so sweet for helping. Please, do. I’ll make sure to reply to their email.”

“I’m glad. I want to be a helpful person to you.” He hesitated. “Hey…are you free?”

“I am now.” She replied, finally letting one last yoga exhale out and opening her eyes slowly.

“Can I take you up on that offer to help me practice my lines? I…I really enjoy listening to your voice.”

Something moved inside of her, and she tried to shrug it off to no avail. She chuckled softly and reached for her phone, her index finger hovering over the videocall icon in hesitation. For a moment, _A_ ’s words of not getting emotionally involved with targets echoed through her head like an omen. The drum of a past beating against her ribcage.

Consequences be damned, she pressed it. Instantly, the sound of an incoming call rang through the line.

“Huh?” She heard Zen utter in confusion. “Calypso…are you sure? You don’t have to…”

She knew that she was acting on impulse, allowing her desires to get the best of her. Not only was she about to reveal her face to him but investing more time than necessary in getting to know him would lead her through a dangerous path. Desire was driving her, but there was a thin line between that and…well, she’d rather not say.

Rather not venture into a quest for something she could never have. The house with the white fence and the perfect garden, the husband and the babies, the Golden Retriever and the satisfying feeling of coming back home from work.

Of a cabin somewhere in Norway, surrounded by nothing but nature. Tangled up in bed, not wanting to get up. Two lovers laying there, not caring about the sound of the river’s flow in the background. Getting drunk on wine and each other, bare and raw.

His arms around her. His chin on top of her head, her breasts against his chest and his heartbeat. The smell of coffee in the air. The sound of an old song playing in the background. The wedding band on their fingers, claiming him as hers and her as his. Feet brushing. Laughter derived from a bad joke.

Chubby toddlers, small hands and fingernails the size of half a grain of rice.

The hint of such desires tracing themselves on the back of her mind, surrendered to dreams she had drowned in alcohol and fear. A destiny crafted from words and ink. Scents filling her lungs and gathering butterflies inside of her, like the feel of fingertips grazing the inside of her heart tentatively – telling her that there was a future she could possess if only she dared to go after it.

She’d rather not think about what those descriptions pointed towards. Of the undisclosed desires she kept locked away in a chest inside of her heart. She couldn’t jump without looking down.

“Yes.” She said confidently.

Perhaps she was making a mistake, perhaps not. Perhaps she’d only be able to tell after everything was said and done. She couldn’t take back the things she’d done in the past that haunted her to this day, that lurked in the shadows of her closet as a reminder of what happened when she deviated from the military principles she had been taught her entire life.

Her regrets flashed through her mind, the fear and fury that had pebbled the skin of her arms and burned her lungs, her flesh torn, the betrayal spilling from her eyes, her blood coated hands holding the blade, and the gut wrenching sobs that shook her body with every hit she delivered. The regret and grief when Charon collected payment for passage to the other side.

That night, in a cave, she had fallen. She had walked away, but she had left a piece of her behind within a black bag.

How could she not fall? The past haunted her to her very core, even as she battled with every bit of strength she possessed. How could she not fall? So willing to destroy and poison. How could she not fall? Having won every battle, but not the war. How could she not fall? Not caring that her shoulders could lift things heavier than her. How could she not fall? When to be wrong meant to die. How could she not fall? Hating herself so much she had _wanted_ to fall. 

Creatures tearing at their skin, drawing blood and shrieking. Ghosts sobbing so hard they could barely breathe. Mirrors with the reflection of a faceless woman, digging her nails into her naked body, selecting the flesh she didn’t like and ripping it, the veins hanging from the butchered skin. Shadows so big and dense they sucked the air from your lungs. Snakes that swallowed each other, careful not to ingest their own tongues as they choked on the poisonous, biting head of their counterparts. A songbird picking apart at its own throat, destroying its ability to sing. Whispers of evil, of weakness and pain. The sounds of primal pleasure coming from a headless man fucking air. Fire, licking at the wood and paper, burning everything in its path to ash.

She was a culmination of all the acts that had led her up to this moment, and the rejection of her past was therefore a rejection of some part of herself in that moment. She had let go, accepted that such part of herself and the inherent darkness birthed – that part that was born and only lived when she was there – was dead and gone.

Nothing but a shadow of her former self. Of a naïveté that had costed her more than she was willing to admit. An innocence and trust that had bled along with her and scarred, leaving the demons at night to curse her before Morpheus’ embrace took her.

So, it was only natural, as Zen pressed _accept_ and his face flashed on the screen with a huge smile…

…that she wondered if she was about to relive the past.

* * *


	9. Harden The Paint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll fall into you when you give in to me, you can be my only woman whose control I won't hold back. We're living the truth, we're chasing the dream. Just giving up both, yeah, giving up control.
> 
> If you like the story feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“It takes more than just a good-looking body.  
You’ve got to have the heart and soul to go with it.”  
\- Epictetus_

* * *

There was a beauty to the unknown, a desire and need for knowledge, that could easily be described as overwhelming, that drove him. Lustful, even. As alluring and beguiling as a woman whose entire life has been dedicated to court and be courted. As fascinating as a man who could speak effortlessly about the divinity etched into the world. As evil as those who dedicated themselves to gamble regarding the feelings of another simply to enjoy the subterfuge of the schadenfreude they had created.

He would admit that when the wayward intruder had entered their chatroom, he had experimented a surge of excitement. Boredom had become a poisonous illness threatening to eventually have a connection born out of love for good erode with the ebb and flow of time.

But Zen could’ve never predicted that his need for entertainment would transform into an interest and desire as unyielding as an infant’s grip. Not long had passed after Calypso had popped into their lives like a champagne bottle’s cork, but he was drawn to her.

It was funny, he had thought, how connected he felt to someone whose face he had never seen. To grasp for something that had yet to materialise before him. A friendship had begun to blossom between them, and he was eager to spend more time nourishing it.

Eager to see where it would lead. To see if he could ever have the opportunity to hold more than the friendly affections of a woman who seemed to support him unconditionally and happily. She supported all of them, there was a kindness there that he had never seen in anyone aside from Rika. It was different, by some means, but the similarities laid bare before all of them.

She was attentive, funny, bold and smart. Every bit of those traits spilled through every word she typed, into the sound of her voice when they spoke through the phone. Into the jokes and confidence that surrounded her. In her capability to believe in the good in all of them. She had even managed to bond with Jumin. It was strange, to see someone being able to crack his arrogance.

Somehow, it was a first, to desire someone just from the sound of their voice. It was a first, having to let his imagination run wild because he had yet to know what she looked like. He had had many sexual partners in the past, almost no girlfriends, and he was used to love not going beyond the physical realm. Love was hard to find; he had seen it all. It was messy, barely pretty. Many women had given him all that he had ever wanted then taken it away, claiming it was a mistake.

They stacked the pieces and then burned down one by one like a domino. They held him and then they let go unexpectedly. It was the idealization of what he could be, of the success that he could obtain, of the power that could come from him if only he were more famous.

Everybody wanted to catch him, but nobody wanted to stay.

It was special, he thought, to feel so drawn to her. To be so willing to jump headfirst into her without the certainty of coming back unharmed. He had not felt this way for a long time.

He remembered his parents asking him what he wanted in life, and back then, he’d been forced to answer them the archetype of a life he didn’t want. He knew everybody enjoyed what felt good. Everyone wanted to have a happy and easy life, to fall in love and have amazing sex and relationships, to look perfect and make money and be popular, well-respected and admired to the point where people parted like the Red Sea when they walked into a room.

When he ran away from home, when he was forced to steal to eat, when he slept underneath the stars and beside a tree to try and shield himself from the cold, he had asked himself what pain he wanted in his life. _What are you willing to struggle for?_

And it had been a great determinant of how his life turned out.

Because happiness required struggle, it grew from problems. Real lifelong fulfilment and meaning had to be earned through the choosing and managing of struggles.

People wanted an amazing physique. But they didn’t end up with one unless they appreciated the pain and physical stress that came with living inside a gym for hour upon hour, unless they loved calculating and calibrating the food they ate, planning their lives out in tiny plate-sized portions.

He’d learned that who you are is defined by what you’re willing to struggle for. People who enjoyed the struggle of a gym were the ones with chiselled abdominals and could bench press a small house. People who enjoyed long workweeks and the politics of the corporate ladder were the ones who climbed to the top of it. And…people who enjoyed the stresses and uncertainties, the long hours memorizing, the pain from rehearsing, of the starving artist lifestyle were ultimately the ones who lived it and made it.

The joy was in the climb itself.

He’d been climbing for years now and he planned to keep on doing it. Despite old insecurities and fears trying to hold him back. Despite looking at himself in the mirror sometimes and having his mother’s words echo through his head and having him doubt the entire sense of self he had built. 

Despite walking through a hair salon and turning away because he remembered the screams of his mother telling him she would shave his head. Some things held him back, reminded him why he had decided to forge his own destiny instead of allowing his parents to usurp control of his life to the point where he would no longer know who he was.

He tried to avoid thinking about it. About a family who put him down instead of lifting him up. About a brother who he still loved but hated at the same time – about the pain of a betrayal that still haunted him to this day. About a mother whose validation he craved desperately and an emotionally absent father.

Avoided the shadow clearly cast by an unresolved past and attempted to light it up by will alone. He’d been struggling with it, there was no use denying it.

Until her.

Until she came and lit everything like a fire that fuelled the pyre of enemies past. Until she eagerly listened to him talk about his day and what he’d accomplished. Until she came in and supported him like few people ever had. Until he had heard her rich voice, giving a high like no drug ever could.

He’d kept it a secret from everyone, but she had come to him in a dream before she crashed into their lives. He hadn’t seen much of her beyond an inked drawing on her chest.

Covered in sweat, with his heart beating erratically, he had known it was of something that would come to pass. He had expected her, the surprise had derived from her popping up in the most unexpected of places. He had presumed she’d appear as a cast mate, perhaps a new friend, or a barista at a coffee shop. Not in the shape of a few words and sentences. Of a stranger who barged into the life they had barely been living.

And, now, as he stared into a plastic screen, he recognized her.

He was taken aback by how beautiful she was. By the brown curls that framed her freckled face. By the generous pink lips she chewed on nervously. By the thick eyelashes that guarded the darkest pair of eyes he had ever seen, like the fertile earth people desperately killed and fought for, the conquered lands of the powerful. Eyes so dark he almost feared being absorbed by the utopic black hole that resided within them, but that he knew he’d willingly get lost in. By the cute nose and soft smile that graced her features. By sun-loved skin, as if Apollo had loved her a little bit more than the rest of them, the evidence of his affection in the beautiful colour of her skin.

She wasn’t from around, that much was obvious – and he had a weakness for beauty.

“Hey.” He spoke, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face, all sorts of scenarios running through his mind. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

When her lips spread to give way to a giggle and a head shake, he could’ve sworn he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. She had come to life, had come to him beyond the dream and right into his reality.

“So are you.” She replied, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Sorry if I look a little sweaty, I just finished doing yoga.”

It dawned on him, then, the amount of skin he could see. He had to refrain from staring at the faint glimpse of the tattoo between her breasts. A blush crept on his face, and he looked away. He could not let his urges get the best of him. He had to calm the beast down. It certainly wasn’t the time to let the wolf inside of him think of sinking his jaws into that beautiful skin.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. How are you? Did you eat?”

_Change the topic, change the topic, change the topic. Don’t stare at her, don’t stare at her, don’t stare at her._ He repeated in his head like a mantra.

“I’m better now, talking to you. And, no, I haven’t eaten yet, but I will. What about you?” She said as she got up and walked towards the couch, taking a seat. “Do you want to practice your lines?”

He gathered enough self-control and courage to look back at his screen and almost sighed out in relief when the camera angle only gave him a view from the neck up. It took a few seconds of admiring her countenance before he decided that he’d rather know more about her. The lines didn’t seem as important anymore.

“Now that I’m finally looking at you, I’m more interested in getting to know you.” He flirted, winking at her.

She laughed.

“I could say the same thing. Very well, what do you want to know?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. “Keep in mind you’ll have to answer the same questions.”

This time, it was his turn to smile. “Alright, so no embarrassing questions.”

“Only if you’re willing to tell me your darkest, deepest secrets.”

He thought about it for a moment, going through a list of things he wanted to know about her. It came to him, then, an article he had read once about the sort of questions that got people to fall in love with you. It had sounded ridiculous at the time, but as he imagined what her lips would taste like, he couldn’t help but to wonder if they worked.

“How about we answer a couple questions that are meant to make us fall in love with each other?” He half-joked, hoping she wouldn’t think he was mad. He was usually not this bold, but she didn’t seem put off, so he took it as a good sign. “Maybe it’ll work.”

She raised an eyebrow in amusement as she smirked at him dangerously. “Oh? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“We won’t know until we try, right?” He countered playfully, smirking at her seductively. “Say yes.”

She shook her head and smiled at him. “Alright, handsome. Make me fall in love with you.”

At the time, she couldn’t have possibly known that he took those words to heart and that he was determined to make it happen. There was something about her that called to him like home. She seemed like the type of woman who wouldn’t come along for the ride because she was already where he was going. He hoped that he was right, that he’d meet her there. That when he found himself between her arms and legs, it would be the only place he called home.

He got up from his couch and walked to his bedroom, closing the door behind him and reaching for his tablet. He climbed on the bed and sat cross legged in the centre of it as he looked up the questions. He had plenty of time to practice later.

Selecting the first option that seemed promising, he gave her a dashing smile.

[_36 questions - How to fall in love with anyone_.](http://36questionsinlove.com/)

“Are you ready, babe?” He questioned, his body vibrating with excitement.

“I was born ready.” She winked.

He genuinely didn’t know if the questions would work, but he was bound to find out more about her. Maybe he’d have to stay up a little bit later than normal practicing his lines, but he figured she was worth losing a little sleep.

“If you could invite anyone in the world to dinner, who would it be?”

She hummed for a moment, her index finger resting underneath her lower lip. “You.”

Blushing, he looked away. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Alright, alright.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Maybe…my parents. I miss them sometimes...It's been far too long. What about you?”

She had said that so casually, as if she had been talking about the weather, that it made his heart clench. He didn’t dare question further lest he offend her. If she wanted to elaborate, she’d willingly share with him.

“Al Pacino? He’s a fantastic film actor. I think it would be interesting to understand how he manages to have such a fantastic range.”

She voiced her agreement and talked a little bit about the actor - and then onto the next one.

“Would you like to be famous? In what way?” He quite liked that question, he realized as he read it out loud.

“Maybe becoming famous for being a philanthropist.” She answered as she toyed with her clothes. “Even though I already know the answer, what about you?”

He laughed at her teasing. “Yes, I’d like to be famous for being a musical actor. I’d love to act in great theatres like…La Scala de Milan or Convent Garden. Maybe even The Metropolitan Opera House.”

“All beautiful places. I’m certain you will, Zen. If what Jaehee says is true, I believe you will go far. I know you will.” She attested, a smile on her face that warmed his cheeks.

He smiled shyly, not used to such genuine support coming his way. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” She assured him.

“Thank you, Calypso.” Her name rolled off his tongue deliciously and he realized he would’ve loved to spend the entire day just whispering it to her.

They got through a few questions until he reached the next one. “Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

Her laughter filled him with joy. It was such a satisfying sound. “Maybe. Perhaps exploring the deep sea? What about you?”

“Hm. I think I might die on a motorcycle accident.” He didn’t add more, but he had a feeling that would be it. It had almost happened before.

Her eyes widened, an amused look on her face. “That’s brutal.”

The more he asked, the more he learned about her. The more he knew he would catch himself dreaming about her and what the future could hold in store for them. He was a romantic, he couldn’t help it. He believed in true love against all odds, of love so deliciously dark, sinister and sweet. In the intertwining of love and obsession that could prove fatal when one-sided but one of the most powerful forces in the universe when mutual. In the power of love represented by six pomegranate jewelled seeds and changing seasons.

“If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?”

She hesitated, sadness crossing her features like a swarm. “Maybe…maybe not being taught that I had to repress my feelings. They told me they were valid, but that they needed to be kept in check when it counted the most.”

“I’m so sorry, babe.” He smiled sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. It wasn’t your fault. I’m working on it, though. What about you?”

“Oh, there’s many things I wish I could change. But…I guess I would’ve liked for my family to support my dreams instead of trying to crush them.”

She had offered her own sympathy and consoled him as best as she could. The alternated through different questions, ranging from trivial to deep. They had spoken about their mothers, about worst and best memories. They had gone down the deepest of topics without really knowing each other. It was freeing to be vulnerable with someone, to allow them in when they normally kept everyone at arm’s length.

By the time they reached the last question, his cheeks hurt from smiling too much.

“Alright, this is the last one.” He announced, rubbing his hands in excitement.

She laughed. “Really? I barely felt them. Alright, shoot.”

“Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem.”

“Oh…” She stayed silent for a minute, rubbing her temple. “Alright, I have a problem I might need you to solve.”

“I’ll try my best.” He smiled.

“I’ve been talking to this man. He’s charming and funny, and oh-so-incredibly attractive. How do I get him out of my mind?”

Perhaps that was the moment she stole his heart from him like a thief during a heist. Perhaps he was just lonely, but he felt something within him shift into a place he suspected it would never return from.

“I have the same problem with this woman.” He shot back playfully. “What should we do? Should we go on a date, Calypso?”

She giggled, the sound so cute and endearing he wanted to hold her. “You know what? I think that’s a perfect solution to our problem.”

And as they stared at each other after finishing the questions, he hoped for something more than just friendship. As they laughed through the night sharing things, they normally wouldn't for fear of being judged, as they shared memories and meaningful glances, he knew.

It was a struggle he was willing to choose.

* * *


	10. The Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A breath feels my skin, a thrill burnt into my blood. The mirror reflecting all my fear. I fall with you. Times and dreams are over. The devils of hell, open their doors. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Nothing fixes a thing so intensely  
in the memory as the wish to forget it.”  
\- Montaigne_

* * *

She wasn’t much of a drinker, never having been too fond of the fact that alcohol held the terrifying ability to numb all her senses. Drinking during a mission felt akin to shoving her hand down a tiger’s mouth and then slapping it on the nose.

There were bad ideas, and then there were _bad_ ideas. Willingly becoming inebriated during a mission, inside of an apartment with a bomb and in danger of triggering it if her drunk mind decided to boldly defy all orders felt like the latter. She knew it was a _bad_ idea.

But as the clock’s arrows hit midnight, and her phone was left charging in the bedroom, all memories came back rushing to her like a wave crashing violently against a rock. One may think the rock won in such a fight as the tide broke against its surface, but the reality was that the water would eventually erode the minerals that composed it. It was only a matter of time, patience and unrivalled determination.

And as she opened the bottle of vodka she carried around in her suitcase and made her way to the living room in nothing but her underwear and an oversized sweater, she couldn’t help but to scoff at how good the analogy fit her weakening state of mind around this time of the year. The fifth anniversary had struck along with the sound of a new day.

It hit her again and again. Looking down at her sweater and seeing blood, but blinking and it disappearing.

As she took a seat on the couch and took her first swing of the scorching liquid, the ghost pain of a blade penetrating the skin of her side cleanly made her place her hand over the scar protectively. Gulp after gulp, she let herself get lost in the numbness of the sedative and the memories that would forever haunt her.

Of her fall from grace.

* * *

_The soft glow coming from the candles inside of the family’s private chapel highlighted the crucified figure looking down at her as she approached the only occupied pew in the entire building. Stained glass, the sound of an organ playing a grim lullaby. The smell of incense in the air and the saints looking down at her, be it with approval or judgement, she didn’t know. She didn’t have the luxury of trying to please a capricious god._

_A beautiful woman sat there, her head bowed down, and her palms joined in prayer. Her breathing was overshadowed by the sobs that escaped her lips. The day of judgement had arrived, and what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? She was the beast, drooling and growling with claws as deadly as a blade._

_Gently, Calypso placed her hand over hers, bringing her attention back to reality. The woman lifted her head, her ebony locks tickling along her skin as she did and focused her emerald eyes on her. A sad smile adorned her features as she lifted her hand to caress the skin of her lover. The cold metal of her ring causing goosebumps wherever it connected._

_The woman had been old enough to be her mother. And, yet, that had not deterred them from the passionate love affair they had tangled themselves into between their bedsheets and the hushed whispers and moans of the night. The flavour of the forbidden heightening the exquisite lust and desire that drove them._

_She had known it was a bad idea, the woman was her target’s wife. The matriarch of the most powerful mafia in Sicily, and the reason she was there in the first place. A mission meant to bring them down, to chop the head off the hydra and let another one take its place. A mission meant to bring nothing but death, and she was the executioner._

_Unable to resist the fire in her step and the volcanic strength in her gaze, Calypso had fallen in love with the beautiful lady with four decades on her hourglass figure. She had almost begged her to let her undisclose what hid underneath those silver strings in her hair and the abdominal fat that aerobics couldn’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard she tried. It was a beauty like no other._

_When they made love, the woman swore she felt the same butterflies she used to feel when she was in her twenties – the perfect amalgam between experience and youth as her mouth opened in ecstasy when she came with Calypso’s head and fingers between her legs. A silent scream of pleasure between the sheets of some other._

_Her husband was far too focused on chasing young women, too focused on maintaining power and looking for spies that he had completely overlooked his wife’s new trainee. He’d been blind to the fleeting touches and coloured evidence in his wife’s thighs from the younger woman’s ministrations. To the love that have been stolen underneath his own nose and roof._

_The woman had not needed to show off her figure to enchant her. Her talent had been focused on handling carefully and masterfully the art of loving – leaving her prints wherever she touched or walked. She had dreamt of nothing but ebony locks and emerald eyes looking into her own. Wondered as their lips connected what in hell she had to do to see if she could fall in love with someone 25 years younger than her._

_And she had. Oh, my, she had. It had been a summer spent surrounded by the citrus aroma of lemon and the cold feel of water on her skin as they swam around the lake. Of lemon tarts and wine underneath the moonlight. Of jokes and obscure books of poetry. Of bicycles around town and the smell of bread in the air. Of breathing in the same air and needing each other to the point of madness._

_Calypso was forced to face her reality every time the naked figure next to her fell asleep and she had to sneak away in order to gather the information she needed, guilt eating her away over the lies she licked into their reality._

_Until she had caught her sneaking out._

_Thinking her death would be the only possible outcome, she was surprised to find the woman had been willing to leave it all behind and run away with her. To help her._

_Despite A’s teachings, she had thrown all caution to the wind and allowed her to learn of her plan, convinced of the woman’s intentions to join her and leave an unhappy life behind her as nothing more than another chapter closed in her history of choices not made._

_After all, her lover was tired. She had done everything that was expected of her. She had married the man who took over after her father’s death. And all that time, all she had wanted was corner kisses, couch gymnastics, and kitchen sex. She had wanted to climb the curtains like a monkey and dance on the mattress. She had wanted backpack travels and to dress like a killer. To kiss a hummingbird and bleed by the touch of a flower’s thorn, to feel alive once again._

_Calypso truly couldn’t fault her husband; it really wasn’t his fault he had married the Holy Grail of the entire country. With legs like the pillars of hell and eyes like the gates of paradise. With lips as humid as winter and breasts as rich as a Swiss bank._

_She had almost cut her veins, wishing he gave her what little he dropped – thinking of the ways she’d rip off the woman’s clothes. Wishing she was hers and not his._

_And someone had given her what she wanted, even if her husband didn’t know._

_Which led to the ice that had frozen her when the woman had plunged a dagger into her, replaced by an inferno of fury at the betrayal._

_The plan was already in motion, agents had flooded the fortress, killing everyone in their path – leaving no man behind. And Calypso had slipped away with the woman, thinking they’d move forward with their goal of running away together. She had been in the process of dragging the small boat that would get them out of the island out of the cave and into the shore when she felt the pain of her skin breaking and the blood slowly draining out of her._

_She had gasped, her hand flying to the bleeding wound as she stumbled back. “Fuck…”_

_“That’s enough, child. This ends now.” The emotionless tone eclipsing her voice chilled her to the bone. “I can’t let you do this.”_

_Shock clouded her judgement, her mind barely able to process what was happening. Every memory and caress playing back every action and promise now broken. Tears threatened to gather at her eyes, the sound of her heart breaking against the waves of the sea._

_“What? Why?” She had hissed, trying to stop the bleeding with her hands to no avail. “I thought you…”_

_The woman had laughed bitterly as she let go of the blade stuck to Calypso’s body. “You really think I would abandon my family for you? You don’t know what family is. You’re a child!”_

_Her words had caused her more pain than the blade ever could. She had taken a blade to every ounce of love she had held for her. She had been willing to abandon her entire life for this woman, and this is how she was repaid? She had taken an oath and she’d die if she broke it. And she had been willing to do it for her._

_“Why did you lead me on, then? You said you loved me! Was that also a lie?!” She had spat, stumbling back until her back collided with the cave’s walls. “Did you fake it all? Did my tongue lapping at your cunt not please you enough?”_

_“I love my children more. I love my husband more.” The woman had whispered as she approached her, her hand pushing the blade deeper into her body. “I can’t let you kill them.”_

_“So, you lied…” She growled, her fingers coated in warm iron. “…you lied to me.”_

_“I didn’t. But I can’t let my family die.”_

_It was hatred that took a hold of her, then. Her jaw tightening._

_A mirthful smirk drew itself on her lips, despite the warmth delicately covering them as if the tint was nothing more than crimson lipstick, and she spat blood to the ground. “They’re already dead.”_

_It took the woman a moment to process her words before her eyes filled with tears and her face contorted into fury. Calypso had revealed only what she considered necessary to escape. She had not told her everyone in the mansion would be mercilessly killed. She had kept that a secret so she wouldn’t change her mind. A mistake, then._

_It had been a monstrous move from her part. To conceal and cheat a truth that could’ve destroyed them as easily as the woman just had. She was just as guilty, as much of a monster. She was the beast that had slouched towards Bethlehem._

_She reached for the knife once again, pulling it out and going for another hit, but Calypso’s training kicked in and she grabbed the woman’s wrist just as it went for what would've been a deadly blow and twisted the knife out of her hand._

_The skin of those beautiful wrists. She had held them before, trapping them with her hand as she kissed the woman passionately or tenderly. It didn’t matter. She had tried not to fall in love, she really had. But it was impossible. Loving her was the best thing she had ever done._

_Calypso elbowed her in the face, watching with regret as she fell to the floor, trying not to let hatred and anger get the best of her. “You used me!”_

_The woman huffed, cradling her bleeding nose. “I used you? You were the one weaselling information out of me! You used me to do your dirty work!”_

_They had used each other. There was no way around it. No way around the tears they had wiped from each other’s eyes in the dead of night. No way around the “I love you” they had gifted each other. No way around the feeling of belonging._

_She stood up, trying to take the knife away from her, but the agent was stronger and faster…younger. “Don’t make me do this…”_

_“Do it, I’d rather die here than be taken hostage. We both know the kind of fate that awaits me, then. I have nothing left.”_

_“We can still run away…” Calypso begged, unsure if her words were meant for the woman who she loved or herself. She was denying it, crying out for this truth to turn into a lie._

_She didn’t expect for her lover to shove her fingers inside of her open wound, digging and making her bleed even more. She bit back a cry and pushed her off, forcing her body to make use of the adrenaline coursing through it._

_“Please, don’t make me do this.” She echoed, pinning the woman’s arms over her head and pushing the weight of her body against the floor as she straddled her torso. She had her in a bind that would be impossible to break away from unless you were military trained._

_“I’m already dead, my sun.” The woman consoled her. Something in her softened at the sight of the young girl having her heart torn into pieces. “Just do it. Give me one last gift.”_

_Calypso shook her head, trying to repress her emotions. “I can’t...I have to take you in...”_

_“Tell me you love me and if you don’t, then lie to me.” She had hissed, emotions dissonant with her words._

_“I…”_

_“Say it.”_

_“I love you…”_

_“If you love me, you will kill me right now.”_

_“I can’t…”_

_“Do it, Calypso!”_

_“I fucking can’t!”_

_“Yes, you can! Kill me or we both die here!”_

_“Then we both die!”_

_“Do it!”_

_A breath grazed her skin, the sudden feeling of death looming over her. She had to choose. If she struggled with the woman further, she’d bleed out. She had to choose. There was no turning back now, no taking back of words and actions. She’d return to the only other life she knew._

_“I’m sorry…” She cried, releasing the woman’s wrists and lifting the knife._

_A thrill burned into her blood, times and dreams cursing their end as she drove the blade deep into her lover’s chest. She regretted it as soon as the white of her dress turned red, spreading through the fabric like spilled ink._

_“I did love you, Calypso.” The matriarch whispered, lifting her hand weakly to caress her cheek lovingly. “I loved you with every ounce of life you gave back to me.”_

_She pulled the knife back and plunged it back into soft flesh. Again, and again, and again, and again until her face and hands were covered in the life she had drained from the woman she had loved desperately._

_Losing her, losing her again and again._

_With every hit, a sob broke through her chest. At one point, she threw the knife away and cradled the woman’s head in her chest like a babe. Her lifeless green eyes had dulled into a mossy colour. She rocked them, wailing and screaming until her throat became raw and incapable of sound._

_After that, she didn’t remember much other than agents dragging her away from the body kicking and screaming and the medics patching her up._

_A, her mentor, had stood beside her on one of the balconies of the mansion, his hand clasped on her shoulder comfortingly. He had refrained from scolding her, knowing she had learned the consequences of emotional attachment on her own, and paid the price for it. He knew, better than anyone, what she was going through._

_She had fallen that night and the doors of hell had been opened for her._

_And as the clean-up crew disposed of the bodies, she heard them doing a morbid inventory. She closed her eyes, trying to repress the grimace and tears on her face._

_The salt of the sea on her tongue along with the iron of blood. The wind blew coldly, leaves crashing against her. A piece of white fabric clenched in her fist as she cried against A’s shoulder, his silence comforting her with the taste of familiarity. What a thing, to lose a lover, he had said. What a thing, to be the killer, she had added._

_And what a thing, to have loved, they had both agreed._

_“Whose body is that? Is that the wife? Bloody hell, look at her corpse.”_

_“Absolutely mutilated...”_

_“What was her name again?”_

_“Gianna Lucchese.”_

_Calypso swore to never utter that name again as she stared at the blackest of waters underneath the floor beneath her bleeding feet._

_For when she died, a piece of her had died along with her._

* * *


	11. If You're Too Shy (Let Me Know)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Girl of your dreams, you know what I mean? There's something 'bout her stare that makes you nervous and you say things that you don't mean.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“What lies behind us and what lies before us  
are small matters compared to what lies within us.”  
\- Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

Calypso genuinely believed her job and life experiences had shaped her to be an intelligent person, but it was during times like these – when she woke up with a headache capable of killing a small elephant, that she questioned her intelligence. Thankfully, she had done nothing stupid. She had downed two bottles of vodka and passed out.

 _Well, that had been stupid,_ but she knew she wouldn’t have survived the night if she had been sober. Her mind had the terrifying capability of being dark and demented, she was scared of her dreams.

Around 3AM, she had woken up to gracefully crawl her way to the toilet and puke her insides out beside a pretentious looking plant who was obviously judging her with its green and mighty leaves. With her head resting on the seat, and a drawled out _fuck_ , she had joined 707’s prank on Yoosung about drinking too much coffee. Her memories had begun to recede into the box she kept under lock and key, and she welcomed the peace that came with it, however faux it was.

She forced herself to begin her day at 7AM, taking a shower, brushing her teeth and having some French toast for breakfast. She even got a call from Zen in the morning, which she admitted had cheered her up, and blocked out the bad. It was almost like anesthesia. 

As she changed, her phone pinged with a message notification. She talked with both Jumin and Jaehee a little bit before they both declared they’d be leaving the chatroom to get on with their day. Tying her shoelaces and making sure to lock the door behind her, she made her way to the lobby of the building.

The sun greeted her as she stepped out of the building and she took a deep breath. In order to sweat out the ethylic liquid lingering in her system, she had decided to go for a run. She wouldn’t leave the gated community; she had a lot of work to do. It wasn't like she had anything to do outside of it, anyway.

It was a beautiful community, with statues and green patches of grass everywhere. Flowers that impregnated the air with their aroma and carried it with the wind all the way to the air she breathed. A couple of fountains here and there filled the background with the sound of water, giving the entire territory a calming atmosphere. She understood why people who could afford it lived in such places.

After putting her earbuds on and stretching, she began jogging. She was very close to cracking the defence system and her hopes were high. There had to be something in that computer. Eventually, she’d get to breaking it on its entirety so she could begin forcing the drawers open and start inspecting the documents she presumed were kept there. The only reason it had been taking her so long was because she was stuck planning a party and answering emails. She had always assumed party and wedding planning were easy, until she realized the amount of time and effort it required.

Invitations, music, food, lighting, marketing. She had good multitasking skills, but even she was growing tired of all the things she had to do in such a short amount of time. If she had been given a couple of weeks, she would’ve planned a party to rival a gala. Truth be told, she wasn’t certain of what kind of parties Rika had organized in the past, but she was certain that none of them were as ambitious as the one she was trying to plan.

Part of her wanted to plan a better party than her, just for the sake of competition. But she was competing against a dead woman, with no chance to defend herself. It was wrong, but she’d be _damned_ if her party mas mediocre.

She had been jogging for a while before she recognized a tall figure with sportswear stretching ahead of her. Slowing her pace down and lowering the volume of the music playing through her earbuds, she pretended not to notice the man as she jogged past him.

The sound of quick footsteps behind her notified her that she had him. She mentally congratulated herself. Her seduction skills had persevered the weight of her retirement.

“Calypso?” A low voice called. “Calypso!”

She stopped abruptly, intent on having her plan work, and he crashed into her. He circled her with his arms and rolled mid-air to cushion her fall. Her reflexes would’ve allowed her to land perfectly, but she was trying to gain information from the person closest to V, she needed to seem as harmless as possible.

With her hands on his chest and her face dangerously close to him, she faked surprise. “Mr. Han?!”

His face was as red as the lacy underwear she wore on dates, and she had to resist the urge to laugh. He definitely wasn’t used to women being this close to him. There was a gigantic cultural difference between them – she knew people in Korea kept their distance to a respectful level. The divergent ways of her culture made her attractive for those who sought the forbidden and inhibited. It was the freedom to fuck whoever you wanted and instead of being shunned for it, being celebrated. It was the tendency of her society to be lenient whenever you had one-night stands. The freedom to fuck and date as much as you wanted before marrying, _if_ you married at all.

One could say that most of us get turned on at night by the very same things we will demonstrate against during the day.

“Are you okay?” She said, pushing herself up with her hands on his chest just enough to separate their faces, biting her lip for dramatic effect.

“Yes.” He whispered; his eyes focused on her lips. She smirked at him playfully.

“If I didn’t know any better, Mr. Han, I’d say you’re flirting with me.” She joked, getting up, dusting herself and offering her hand to him.

He hesitated for a second before taking it. “Flirting is worthless. It serves no purpose beyond superficial flattery.”

“Flirting is the promise of sexual intercourse without a guarantee.” She countered, fixing the strap of her sports bra. “It’s a pleasure to see you around again.”

“I did wonder when we’d run into each other again.” He said awkwardly, trying to avoid staring at her breasts. “Since finding out Rika’s apartment is around here, it was only a matter of time before we did. How is the party planning coming along?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another, placing a hand on her hip. “It’s…quite different from what I thought it would be, but it’s coming along fine. I can’t move forward with contracts unless V gives his permission to hold the party, though.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “I see. You should be expecting news from him today.”

“Oh?” She replied, licking her lips and raising her eyebrow. “I’ll wait, then.”

She hadn’t seen any emails calls or texts. They had most likely met in person. It got her thinking that she’d need to keep her eyes open. She had missed that bit of information. It bothered her, not knowing what had transpired between them during that meeting.

His gaze focused on her once again and she noticed the subtle way he ran his eyes through her body. He caught himself before she had a chance to tease him and cleared his throat.

“I heard from 707 you’re a journalist, is that true?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest, probably trying to shield himself from whatever thoughts he had running throw his mind.

 _Sure thing, Jan._ She thought to herself as she smiled at him.

“It is, why?”

“I hope you’re not planning on divulging the information you’ve been given through our chats. We have put our trust in you. I trust you understand the importance of confidentiality.”

She smiled, unable to hold back the chuckle that escaped her as she shook her head in disbelief. “I know there’s a nasty reputation to my kind, but you’ve not nothing to fear. I don’t focus on celebrity gossip.”

Besides, it wasn’t like they talked about incriminating things. She had spent a fair amount of time within that chatroom and they mostly talked about their lives and normal things. The bits that had helped her were all stored in _Boxi_ , just waiting for her to turn in the logs to the agency.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. “What is your specialty, then?”

“I focus on education.” She lied through her teeth, the first thing that came to mind that wouldn’t have him on her back. “Statistics, developments, etc.”

“I understand. Perhaps you’d be interested in Yoosung’s experience, then.” He offered, stealing a glance at his watch.

“Got somewhere to be?” She asked, motioning to his wrist.

“Ah.” He voiced, uncrossing his arms. “It’ll be time for me to head to the office soon.”

She nodded, taking a step back and leaving an opening for him to leave. “Don’t let me stop you, then. It was good to see you, Mr. Han.”

“Jumin is fine.” He corrected.

“Very well.”

He bowed, signalling his goodbye and began walking back to his building. Just as she put her earbuds back, he stopped and turned around, his mouth open as if to speak. He closed it and then opened it again, settling for whatever decisions he had been making inside of his head.

“Calypso.”

“Yes?”

“Perhaps you’d be interested in conversing over dinner some time.” He spoke casually. “I’ve noticed you’ve gotten close with Zen, but perhaps…you could be persuaded to focus your attention _elsewhere_.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Han?”

“Think of it as a job interview.” He prompted. “I’m certain we can put your talents to good use in my company.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” She vacillated, unsure of the meaning behind his words.

 _Did he just imply I'm a prostitute? What the hell?!_ Calypso was taken aback by his offer, and she huffed internally. 

He nodded and resumed his journey back home. She turned the other way, jogging all the way back to the apartment. Her encounter with the heir had been enough to remind her she was not out of the woods yet and needed to gather information. It was also a reminder of why she didn’t like controlling men. The longer it took her to crack the computer, the easier it would be for her target to escape. 

After a shower, she sat on the couch with her laptop, making sure 707 wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing. Her phone buzzed with a new notification.

Jumin’s words had proven true when V confirmed that she was safe and that the party would be held within a week. The conversations between Yoosung and V clearly showed animosity between them, and when the latter let himself be attacked – she began truly wondering just what kind of person V was. What was he trying to prove? It seemed that the rest of the members didn’t know what was happening. Then again, that could also be wishful thinking.

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Why do you only discuss classified  
>  information with Seven?_
> 
> **_V:_ ** _Luciel is in charge of handling  
>  classified information?_

She actually had the audacity to snort at that. Well, he was a funny one.

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Why do we need classified information  
>  in this organization?_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _I feel like you’re using Seven to  
>  make more secrets._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _If you tell him to, Seven will just  
>  lie to us, right?_
> 
> **_V:_ ** _Luciel did nothing wrong._

Raising an eyebrow, she was surprised by Yoosung’s question. She had known that much, but to hear another member voicing it, it was an enlightening experience. V hid more than he shared and the college student resented him for it. There was more to it than just the death of his cousin. 

> **_V:_ ** _The reason why we have classified information  
>  is…because there were a lot of things Rika took care of  
> while maintaining secrecy._
> 
> **_V:_ ** _She collected all that information at her  
>  apartment._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _If what you’re saying is true,_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _then can’t we just get rid of the  
>  classified information…now that Rika is gone?_
> 
> **_V:_ ** _It’s not that simple._

It was only after that conversation that Calypso decided that she needed to work fast. She spent the day creating a loop so that she could fool 707 when she attempted to open those bloody drawers, chatting with Zen and the rest of the RFA members, and breaking down the defences of the security system.

Later in the night, when V logged onto the chatroom once again and declared he'd be leaving, she knew she would have to haul ass. He couldn't be onto her, but her time was limited. He kept on disappearing and appearing. She had to break it down before he disappeared entirely, and she was left tracing the tracks of a phantom.

> **_V:_ ** _I must leave on a business trip, so  
>  it will be difficult to come here often._

He had also confirmed, once again, that Luciel had done a background check on her. She wondered just how much information _A_ had had to create to get them off her ass.

> **_V:_ ** _I will return before the party._
> 
> **_V:_ ** _I will hear from Luciel if anything  
>  important happens._

Her stress and frustration were beginning to wear her down. She hoped he wasn’t planning on running away – which was unlikely, because he didn’t know he was being hunted down by a special agent. She was certain there was no way for them to find out who she was. She was a ghost but it was a risk she could not afford to take. There was no rest for the wicked like her.

As night dragged on, and _Boxi_ worked its magic along with her help, she let herself take a break and grabbed her phone. She entertained herself with Yoosung’s failed attempt at quitting LOLOL and Zen’s fussing over the poor kid like a mother hen. They had been discussing their love lives, piquing her interest.

> **_ZEN:_ ** _I understand why none of us have  
>  girlfriends._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I’m dating my job,_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _that trust fund kid is dating his cat,_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Seven’s a freak,_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _and Yoosung’s addicted to games._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _No wonder we don’t have anyone._

She had laughed, adding her own version in her mind - she was dating her job and her vibrator. After they all bid their goodbyes, including Jumin and 707, she was left alone with the computer and the bomb. They were friends now. 

So, she resumed her nightly attack on the security system.

Only to wish she hadn’t.

It took her only a couple of minutes to break down the final defence without alerting 707. Her screen displayed Rika’s desktop, a picture of her and V smiling as her wallpaper. Slowly, she closed her laptop and made her way to the bedroom, making sure to close the door behind her. In case she had any reactions, she didn't want Luciel to suspect.

Once settled in bed, she opened it once again. She was finally in. "Fucking finally...let's see what you've been hiding, Rika."

She began going through everything she could get her hands on. At first, everything was standard. Powerful party guests with secrets to hide, wedding planning, music and books about various topics – amongst them herbalism and chemistry.

It was only when she stumbled upon a folder titled “RAY” that she discovered something worthwhile. The folder was protected by a password, which she bypassed surprisingly quickly.

Calypso stared down at the pictures in front of her, feeling as though she had just been hit with the force of her own hook. Bile raised in her throat and she covered her mouth with her hand to resist the urge to vomit.

It was 707’s face looking back at her, but somehow different – with bleached white hair and mint eyes, an emotionless and dead expression staring at her.

She read the information on the documents carefully, trying to piece together this new character into the whole narrative. The wheels in her head turned as quickly as they could, mixing and matching. Her eyes read wildly as she scrolled down.

A man who had willingly joined…but joined what? Could it be talking about the religious organization? That _Magenta_ thing? What were the requirements to join?

She had, at the very least, confirmed that _Magenta_ was related to an organization. 707 had been right. He would’ve probably killed for the information she now had at her disposition.

Digging deeper, she stumbled upon a picture of Rika and V beside two young, identical boys. She read the names.

Putting the laptop aside, she stumbled into the bathroom, opening the lid of the toilet and emptying her stomach. Her eyes burned with tears. There was something very wrong with the information she had just found, and she had a feeling it was barely the tip of the iceberg.

The names flashed in her mind, the sound of their pronunciation echoing in every corner of her mind teasingly. She wasn’t stupid enough to believe this was just a coincidence. Something dark was at work and it would only get darker. Soon enough she’d be staring into a void and the void would be staring back at her with determination in its consuming nucleus.

She whispered the names out loud to try the sound of them.

_Saeyoung and Saeran Choi._

That was Luciel Choi, 707. He was but a child in that photo. She had seen the bruises in his arms, the crooked smile. The other child, his brother, had an equally happy grin, with his hand holding onto his partner’s. The innocence was clear, despite abuse being a thief of it.

She stood up, rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth. Staring at herself in the mirror, she noticed how pale she had become at the revelation. She understood the loyalty, the history, the pain. Why did Rika have that information? V claimed that he didn’t visit the apartment. Was the computer connected to the cloud? Was this information his?

The man she was supposed to watch out for. The jokester, the hacker, the special agent…

…he had a twin.

* * *


	12. Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's what you do, it's what you see. I know if I'm haunting you, you must be haunting me.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Those who hate the most fervently must have  
once loved deeply, those who want to deny the world  
must have once embraced what they now set on fire.”  
\- Kurt Tucholsky_

* * *

There was a saying about time that she had heard all her life – that it was never enough or too much, and when you had it, it slipped like sand through your fingers. It was fickle and capricious, obeying no one. Taking no orders for it had no known master. No laws applied to it; no life capable of escaping it. It devoured all things: birds, beasts, trees, flowers, people; it gnawed on iron, it bit steel; grinded stone to meal; slayed kings, ruined cities, and beat high mountains down.

Time didn’t belong to humans. It wasn’t theirs.

And even as it seemed to go by slowly, or to have stopped entirely, the constant ticking of the clock in the bedroom let her know that it wouldn’t wait for her.

She had been staring at the picture for quite a while now, understanding now why Luciel, whose real name was Saeyoung, was so loyal to V. He had known him ever since he was a child.

Her understanding only deepened as she read the information Rika had compiled about the brothers. Bastard children of a powerful politician used for money by their abusive and alcoholic mother. A mother who kept them locked away, hidden to the rest of the world. A woman who starved and forced down their throats the church of the god who had abandoned them until they had met Rika. V had somehow gotten Luciel to join an intelligence agency while his twin stayed under the care of Rika. There were pictures of the child, Saeran, looking happy.

It made sense now why he was his lapdog.

So willing to lie, manipulate and hide for him – would he be willing to kill? She wasn’t planning on finding out, knowing that going against an agent would be harder than going against an average thug or petty criminal.

But the more she dug up, the more something felt out of place. Every bit of information about Saeran, alias Ray, was directly related to reports – both medical and psychological. He was spoken of as a subject to experiments to some sort of drug. Texts describing how they struggled to manipulate his memories to break his bonds to the past.

He was, at one point, described as an “unbreakable” – the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he interacted with those who had power over him…it wasn’t specific to any age, gender or origin, but there was one quality he shared with the others who had struggled with the drug (which meant he wasn’t the only subject): the stubborn, unbending will that earned them that title. They did not submit to the drug like other subjects did; their spirits did not – could not – break. They could be beaten, whipped, raped, starved, chained; it didn’t matter what you did to them, they would die before they were broken.

She shuddered, thinking of what they had done to him. If he had gone through such torture, it was a bloody miracle that he remained unbreakable. He must’ve been holding onto something for dear life, holding onto hope for the future. Everything could be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

How had he been able to withstand that? He had to be fighting back underneath the influence of the drug. Finding meaning in the suffering he was going through. What could be worth it? What could be worth reliving the experiences he had escaped from? It had been replacing one evil for another.

The psychologist who wrote the report had added an observation at the end:

> _…you may gain his obedience, but it is nothing but a shallow reflection. He may do as you say, but his mind will always be consumed by thoughts of escape, revenge or both. I know you’re strong, my Saviour, but watch your slave closely or he may slit your throat as you sleep. Keep him under the influence of the drug._

Whatever she had uncovered, it was bigger than a simple homicide case. This was illegal human experimentation and based on the hundred reports she found – it had been done on more people than just Luciel’s brother. It was a cult of sorts, where hundreds of people had been fed this drug in order to get rid of all pain. This Saviour person, were they trafficking these people? Was this some kind of brothel? The possibilities were endless.

The computer seemed to be linked to another, as reports kept coming in real time - something she planned on using. She gasped as she stumbled upon the reports of both Fair Kang, the reporter, and Mark, the wedding planner. They had broken them beyond recognition. The pictures she had before her eyes were completely different from the ones in _A_ ’s reports.

Was V, Jihyun Kim, involved? Was he the Saviour?

And, yet, as she continued emptying the skeletons from the closet, something didn’t quite sit well with her. The very few mentions she had found about the Saviour were all gendered female. So far, none of her suspects were female except for Jaehee. There was no mention of her. Was it meant to throw her off their trail? It didn’t make sense; they didn’t know she was hunting them down.

She had stumbled upon something bigger than herself; this wasn’t as simple as catching a killer. It wasn’t as simple as bringing the fiancé to justice. This was dismantling an entire criminal organization. The trial would take years and the damage that would have to be paid for would surpass the seven digits. In cases like these, her agency often opted to simply eradicate the entire thing, leaving no trace behind. Burning everything to the ground and into ash.

Driven by curiosity, she typed in _Magenta_ in the search bar.

A picture of a luxurious chateau popped up, with mint green ceilings and blue curtains. It appeared to be in the middle of a forest or somewhere far away from the city. Was that the name of the structure? Was it an estate, a plantation of sorts?

She filed it away for later, downloading everything into _Boxi_.

Her hands trembled as she continued reading. She found documents regarding the drug; the ingredients used in them. It clicked, then, the herbalism and chemistry books. She picked up _Boxi_ and dialled A’s code.

It was only a matter of seconds before his voice broke through the silence. “Agent 401.”

She lowered her voice to a whisper, climbing under the covers.

“This is bigger than a homicide case, _A_. We’re looking at a possible cult or human trafficking organization. They’re developing a drug and testing it on human subjects – including our missing men.”

“Send the information to me.” She began transferring all the information.

“Yes, sir. How should I proceed?”

_A_ stayed silent for a minute, probably weighing his options. “There’s a high probability that the same person who led you into that apartment is involved with the cult.”

"What do you make of it?"

He hummed as soon as he scanned through the files. “I’ll have someone analyse these. 401, if they led you there, it could mean you’re their next target.”

“Should I avoid capture or let it happen?”

“Avoid it if you can, but if there’s no other way than to bring it down from the inside, you will have to comply. Keep an eye on Mr. Kim and the rest of the members. They could all be involved.”

A memory of her conversations with Zen flashed through her mind painfully. She didn’t want to believe he was involved, but it was her job to prove it.

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep digging until you’ve got the location and we’ll send a team for you to lead during the strike.”

“Sir?” She hesitated, knowing she might not like the answer of her next inquiry.

“Yes?”

“Will we proceed by disposing of our target or should I turn them in?”

“…whatever you think is best. For now…” She could hear him tapping away. “…we’ll look for a way to counter the effects of this drug as soon as possible in case you come into contact with it. We can’t lose you.”

“Very well.”

“May Thanatos spare you.”

The line went dead. She was used to their conversations regarding missions being short and to the point. 

She let out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding. Slowly, the tears began spilling from her eyes. A fantasy had held her captive before, she couldn’t allow it to happen again. Her attraction to Zen couldn’t go beyond sexual intercourse. Perhaps fucking him would get him out of her system. Would she be fucking a criminal if she did? She was no saint either.

Shaking her head, she decided to focus her attention back to the task at hand. There had to be files regarding the members of the RFA, even herself. It would confirm _A_ ’s suspicions. Whoever was not listed could be the alleged Saviour.

So far, she had enjoyed talking to them, bonding with them. She was about to reach her fifth day talking to them and, after every exchanged word, she really didn’t want to believe they could be involved.

Luciel, despite being V’s lapdog, couldn’t have possibly consented to his brother being the subject of an experiment. He had left to protect him, right? She wanted to assume he didn’t know, but she couldn’t blind herself to the possibility of it being true. Nausea filled her when she considered that option. He was smart, but she didn’t know how wicked his values could be. If he was also victim to manipulation.

Yoosung, so naïve and innocent, the victim to his cousin’s alleged suicide. Could he be the one picking the people who would be kidnapped? College students were easy targets, especially females who walked alone at night. A spiked drink, loud music and a missing student were no rare occurrence. His animosity towards their leader could be more than just what she had seen so far.

Jumin, the heir to C&R International. He had offered her a job opportunity. Had he meant to make her become a part of the cult? To hire her as a prostitute and kidnap her so he could charge a hefty price for her? With the amount of money he possessed, it would be easier to cover their tracks. It was often the rich and powerful who were involved in those sorts of circles. They killed and disposed before anything could be revealed to the public. Manipulating the media was easy for them, taking charge of a narrative to distort it in their favour.

Jaehee, the assistant with crushed dreams. She was exceptionally good at managing tasks, could she be the one overseeing the trafficking? She worked long, strange hours. She was constantly overworked, stressed out and tired. Could guilt be eating her away?

And…Zen. Her heart ached just thinking about it. What would his role be? He was attractive, he could seduce women and men into joining the cult. Could he be the one in charge of luring them in? Did he work beside Yoosung? He could use his fame to direct attention elsewhere. He was charming but there was an untameable fire inside of him. He was tall and fit; it wouldn’t be hard for him to drag people away. His profile had indicated that he was no stranger to a life of roughing it up, he had been a runaway as a teenager. There was no way of knowing just what he had done to survive, the possible organizations and ways out he had taken to escape the tragic reality of homelessness.

Calypso forced herself to look up their names, expecting the worst. What came back to her felt like a slap to the face, shaking the core of the world she had been living in for the last couple of days. It felt like weeks, as if she had known them forever.

> **_Saeyoung Choi_ ** _: recruit pending_
> 
> **_Yoosung Kim_ ** _: recruit pending_
> 
> **_Jumin Han_ ** _: recruit pending_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang_ ** _: recruit pending_
> 
> **_Hyun Ryu_ ** _: recruit pending_
> 
> **_Jihyun Kim_ ** _: recruiting in process_

She frowned, reading once again the last name. V was being recruited? Then who was the Saviour? The rest of the RFA members had yet to be recruited. Did they not know about it? Based on V’s secrecy and the reactions of the members, it seemed to be the case.

If V was in the process of being recruited, it meant that he was aware of the cult – and he could’ve been the one to lead her to the apartment. How did it work? What did he have to do in order to become a member of it?

The more she thought about it, the more V started looking like a pawn. His alleged travel could be linked directly to the cult. He could’ve been going through some sort of initiation ritual. Was he being experimented on? The possibilities were endless and no matter how much she looked into him, even in Rika’s computer, there was barely any information about him. What was he so desperately hiding from the rest of the world?

It came to her that whoever had adopted the Saviour role within the cult had to know about the RFA on a deeper level. Had to know the guests, the members, the ways to use the information to their advantage.

It could be one of the guests, a powerful and rich one. It could be someone who had previously worked with them. It could be a close acquaintance of the members. It could be a drug lord paying for a new product. It could be…

…Rika’s body was _never_ found.

Everything she now knew; she had found within her computer. V knew about how sensible the information was. They had been engaged.

Something wasn’t adding up, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She looked up Rika’s name and came up empty handed. A headache began to crawl its way into her system as she struggled to remember where, exactly, she had read her name. Her body had never been found, her body had never been buried.

Filtering the documents, she was reminded of the various documents that described the ingredients contained within the drug they had been creating. She opened them all and read as fast as her eyeballs and cognition could afford.

Until she found it.

The document held the journal of a scientist, where he clearly stated that under Rika’s watchful eye, they had been able to uncover the key ingredient within the drug that helped them mould the mind of those who came into contact with it. It was more than just a drug; it was the psychological rape they put them through in order to comply. To break.

Rika could’ve been forced into it or…she could’ve been the first one to be recruited. She remembered Jaehee telling her during a conversation that everyone but Yoosung and Zen were religious. Amongst the guest list, could she have been the first one to be recruited?

She understood how her joining the cult could prove useful. She had the right connections, the charisma, the money. The fact that she had been the one overseeing the creating of the drug already incriminated her – unless she was forced into it.

Had she been murdered for it? Were they having V take her place?

Staring at a picture of Rika, she wondered. All this time, she had been certain that V was the mastermind, that he was the one behind it all. A murderer, a liar, a criminal, a bastard. She had labelled him many things but knowing what she now knew, they didn’t quite sit well with her.

Once the impossible had been eliminated, whatever remained, however irrational, must therefore be the truth. It was impossible, but she couldn’t really afford the luxury of putting theories aside because of a biased opinion.

Everything was in Rika’s apartment, and if V claimed he had never been there – that he didn’t know the password, then there was a possibility that he didn’t know what was concealed within the computer’s memory. Perhaps he had covered up her alleged death. She had known about the drug, she had been involved in the process of its craft, had known the scientists. She had been the one in charge of taking care of Luciel’s brother, of making sure he had a wonderful life away from the pain they had been put through. The files had said that he had joined willingly. What if he had done it because of her? She had been the one to manage the guests, the one to have the digital versions of books that contained possible ingredients for the drug.

If the Saviour was gendered female, and Jaehee didn’t seem like a plausible character for it, then the only other person remaining was…the former RFA party planner herself: Rika.

It didn’t seem too far fetched the more she thought about it. It made sense. Between V and Rika, she seemed to be the most suspicious one of the two. Why would she possess such information? Why would she work on the drug?

What if V had covered her death up so she could be overlooked during the investigation? He was being recruited, it meant that he must’ve known more than he let on. He was hiding too many things. His words circled her mind like a carrousel.

What if Rika was alive?

Calypso went through the possibilities and decided to hang onto both theories for now. It was either V, Rika or a much more dangerous third party.

As quickly as she could, she typed her own name along with her fake surname. She hesitated before pressing enter, her index finger hovering above the key.

She knew she’d be in there. What did they want with her? They had had no qualms about kidnapping the reporter and wedding planner, why had they taken a different tactic with her? Why had V spared her from the kicking and screaming?

Something had differentiated her from the rest of them. Something had pushed them into taking a different tactic with her. Hypothetically, if they managed to recruit her, what would her role be? Would they subject her to the same kind of torture Saeran had been put through if she refused to take the drug? Would they kill her? What could they possibly gain from a reporter?

Determined, she pressed enter. Somehow, she knew that it would be to cross the Rubicon. There was no going back from this.

> **_Calypso Ydenn_ ** _: recruiting in process_

* * *


	13. Little League

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Cause, lately I've been feeling strange and everybody's telling me to act my age. I never thought that everything I had, would fade away.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“You are young, so young  
that failure seems impossible.”  
\- Ben Ditmars_

* * *

After taking his headphones off, Yoosung rubbed his eyes with the back of his palms, trying to get rid of the dryness that had been bothering him for the past few hours. Perhaps it would be a good idea to consider getting some glasses to avoid hurting his eyes further. He had been playing for…well, he wasn’t sure anymore. Time seemed to fly past him lately

He was so close to levelling up, it was his duty as an avid and loyal LOLOL player to keep playing until he got it! It made sense to him, then. But, once he closed the game and was left with nothing but his reflection staring back at him from the dark computer screen, sleep deprived and hungry, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something beyond games that would ever make him feel happy again.

He had forgotten what it truly felt like to be happy, to feel joy without the weight of guilt on his heart. Numb to everything, pretending everything was fine. Studying a major he was no longer interested in. Nothing made sense anymore.

There was a tinted nostalgia in the shadow of his childhood. The smell of morning dew and grass, the sound of laughter and his mother calling for him because it was time for a snack. The feeling of running his hands through the fur of a dog. Playing and talking to anyone, faceless and nameless friends that allowed him to wear his heart on his sleeve. Bruises on his knees from falling from his bike. Sand that sneaked inside of his shoes after a day of playing and building sandcastles that never really seemed to stay put together. Homework that consisted of naming shapes and body parts. Turning off the downstairs lights and running upstairs because he was certain a monster was chasing him. Trying to push all the colours of a pen down at once. Stabbing holes into his eraser when he was bored in class, wishing he had sneaked out. Building pillow forts and begging his mother to let him lick the spoon. Talking into a fan just to hear his robot voice. Belonging to the generation of those who would change the world before the earth decayed.

He desperately wished for a rewind. He had not known back then that fate had other plans for him – that everything he had would eventually fade away with the voice of the only sister he ever had.

Rika had died and she had taken a piece of everyone’s hearts with her, especially his. She had always been his main emotional pillar of support, his number one fan and the only person who understood him. He was certain that he was the one who took her death the hardest. After all, he had grown up with her, cried with her, played with her, laughed with her more than any of them had.

And she had smothered the only flame and source of light in his life by taking her own life.

He had done his best to help her cope with the death of her dog, he had chosen to major in veterinary science so he could bring a semblance of hope back into her life. He had been there for her. Was it his fault she had killed herself? Was there something he could’ve done to save her?

The depression that had killed her was slowly starting to lick at his ankles, luring him in with the siren’s song of numbness. It lingered, it wasn’t always there, but it haunted him like a shadow creeping behind his every move. It was there to remind him on the best day of his life, that the day after would be deliberately made the worst. It was the lies it tried to get him to believe about his life. It was like poison.

It was there when he spent hours on autopilot playing games, when he drifted away into his mind during class and when he could barely get up from his bed to do schoolwork. It was there every time he went back home and saw the pictures, he had of her in his bedroom. It was the way he had become a passenger in his own body.

Truth be told, Yoosung didn’t know what had happened to Rika after her suicide. All he really knew was what happened to the people around her after she died. It was hard for her family, the RFA, to live normally for a long time. People missed her. A lot.

When she killed herself, her friends, her clients, her fiancé, himself…they really loved her. They would spend the rest of their lives confused, angry and jealous.

Jealous at anyone who had a cousin, a sister, a best friend, a fan, a fianceé. It had only been a year and a half since her death, but the wound was still open and bleeding. At the end of the day, he knew there was someone who was supposed to be in his life right now, but they weren’t. And they never would be again.

And it forced him to ask himself a lot of questions he would never get the answer to. It felt like a lot of unnecessary pain that felt horrible and unfair. He wrestled with those emotions every time he thought about it.

So he tried not to think about it, but if he didn’t think about it he couldn’t work his way through and working his way through fucking hurt; because there was so much of it everywhere, everywhere he turned it was there. Everywhere he saw someone sharing a laugh with their sister, when he saw movies with picture perfect families and sibling events. Every time he saw her pictures. Every time he saw blonde hair and green eyes.

It influenced who he was. It was like a before and after, this event, that she did, he was a different person. And he didn’t know if it was for the better or for the worse.

And he fucking hated her, and he fucking loved her.

He didn’t recognize himself when he looked in the mirror. He had used to be so caring and sweet. What had happened to the boy who had smiled because the world had so much in store waiting for him? He was excited about the future, about becoming the best version of himself and helping as many people and animals as he could. To leave his own little happiness mark on the world.

The answer eluded him. He was trying his best to find him, too. Because how could ever attempt to explain to everyone that he was emotionally exhausted? 

He wondered if he should settle. He had seen it his entire life. He was just going to get older and harder, and more alone. And he was going to do everything to try and fill that hole, with friends, with his career, and meaningless sex, but the hole would never get filled. It was a black hole that swallowed everything in its path.

The RFA members had already begun filling the hole, he knew. He was more perceptive than they gave him credit for. Zen filled it with exercising and rehearsing, 707 with his pranks and hacking, Jumin with a cat, alcohol and his company, Jaehee filled it by remaining in a position she didn’t like and beating herself over it.

One day, they were all going to wake up and realize that everybody loved them, but nobody liked them. That they had spent their lives looking for something genuine and found only a semblance of truth. And that was the loneliest feeling in the world. There was nothing worse than seeing regret in the eyes of a person who could no longer change their life.

So, they presented this low-level stuff when talking about themselves because they engaged themselves with little problems that they turned into big things because they didn’t want to deal with the bigger ones that scared them.

Just what sort of low standard had they tolerated for this pain to still be in their lives?

Then, one day, Calypso had crashed into their lives, shaking their entire world like the biggest earthquake to have ever been created by the simplest movement of tectonic plates. 

He’d be lying if he said he had not seen the shadow of his cousin in her. He had yet to see her face, but every time he pictured her…he pictured green eyes and a bright smile.

They were alike in so many ways: in the kindness of their interactions and the words of encouragement they gifted, in the way they tried to understand, in the way they cheered everyone up with just a simple greeting. They were both like a lighthouse bringing them back home after so much time of being lost at sea.

And then, they were different in so many other ways. Calypso was a lot funnier, for starters. She had a way of messing with everyone, even the ever serious Jaehee. She had gotten along with Seven easily because of that. She was also mysterious, there was so much about her that they didn’t know other than the small facts she threw here and there. She was incredibly smart, terrifyingly so. He had spoken to her many times through the phone about LOLOL and his major and she had been able to keep up the conversation easily – she was also able to talk about art and business with Jumin, Zen and Jaehee. She was a great cook, or at least he thought that much, based on the tips she had given to him. She was more dominant. Everything about the way she spoke and thought screamed dominance and confidence.

He didn’t know her, but he was crushing on her. _Hard_.

It made him feel like a little child, whenever a message from her made his heart skip a beat. She was the most active member out of all of them, she was always there to chat. It made sense, he guessed, if she was stuck in Rika’s apartment all day. It only gave him the opportunity to interact with her as often as he could, trying to bond with the mysterious woman.

Perhaps he was directing his attention to her because there was so much she was healing in them all. She was like an angel, she had to be. She listened to them consciously, she offered advice and encouragement. She was someone they could trust, right? He knew it in his heart. Rika had taught him to see the good in people, so while the rest of the suspected her, he vouched for her.

Just a few hours ago, she had been playing LOLOL with him and she had been incredibly good at it. They had had so much fun and he had known that whenever Seven wasn’t available, she’d be down to play. She had been two levels below him but had levelled up freakishly fast as she cut down enemies.

She had played as a healer, and the irony of it all didn’t go unnoticed by him.

He was almost certain that she made them all feel like they were boys and not men. Certain of the collective awe she had inspired in all of them. Certain that when she entered the chatroom, they would never be going back to the way things were.

It was in the way that she influenced them little by little. How she encouraged Jaehee to relax and look for her dreams despite the assistant constantly expressing her disapproval towards her growing closeness with Zen. How she told Seven to take care of himself, to mind his health and laugh more. How she taught Jumin, little by little, how to express his emotions. How she seemed to understand him better than anyone, validating his emotions when he spoke about Rika. How she believed in Zen and flirted with him shamelessly.

It was the way she had planted the seeds of her existence in their hearts and they had begun to take roots that would eventually become the strongest of trees.

He believed, in a way, that he was the only one who was conscious of the fact that she’d change their lives forever. There was no doubt of it.

Logging into the chatroom, he was excited to find Zen would be working with Echo Girl, the famous pop vocalist.

Echo Girl was an absolute cultural gift. Her debut as a singer had turned her into one of the most popular idols of the country, despite her newcomer status. If he managed to obtain an autograph, he’d frame it.

And as he read the messages exchanged between Calypso and the actor, he couldn’t help but to think that he had missed his opportunity with her. Perhaps it was because Zen was a lot more attractive than he was, or because he had a magnetic charm and natural charisma most could only dream of. Perhaps it was because he had a feeling the world had somehow made those two meet each other.

It was the entirety of the RFA watching a love story unfold right before their eyes while they all secretly desired to be the ones on the receiving end of the party planner’s feelings.

He was willing to bet he wasn’t the only wondering what it felt like to be in Zen’s place.

As the day dragged on, he began to notice just how open Zen was becoming about his feelings – about the attraction he felt for her. Seven had said she was beautiful. Had Zen already seen her face? The RFA messenger wasn’t the only way to contact each other.

His treacherous virgin mind wondered just how beautiful she was. What her voice sounded like. Was she slim or curvy? How would her legs feel wrapped around him? Would she be passionate in bed or would she let him lead?

He had never been with a woman before and everything he knew - he knew from novels and adult websites. Of course, he was aware that those things were far from reality, but it fuelled his mind enough to find momentary pleasure. To break out of the static numbness that clouded his already exhausted brain.

And as the tightness of his pants began becoming uncomfortable and he ran a hand through his hair to calm himself down as best as he could, he tried to rationalise the sudden lust. He needed a cold shower; it was wrong to think of her that way.

He wished them the best through text, knowing that the fantasies he conjured about her would remain as fantasies.

Perhaps, he thought, he’d get a girlfriend once he got back on his feet.

He planned on it being soon.

The idea had been circling his head for a while now, floating and poking him at the strangest of times; but it was already there. There was so much of it online, so much awareness, so much support and various anecdotes of good experiences. Adults had labelled it as a bad thing.

Perhaps there was reason to what they said about his generation having the terrible idea that it was best to vomit every thought and feeling all over each other. A pandemic of overcommunication that led to an absence of intimacy. A fantasy created on social media, of a perfect life. Companies that exploited people’s insecurities, selling them instant gratification. The profited off people’s unsatisfaction with their own lives.

Yet there was strength in numbers, in knowing that your struggle wasn’t special or exclusive, that people all around the world could relate to it. And if they had managed to overcome it, what was stopping him from being the next one to face his own monsters? One of the only things that every young adult and teenager shared together was the belief that they were alone. They really weren’t.

But he couldn’t do it on his own. He would need all the help he could get. Opening his browser, he wondered if this was the first step in the new life he was planning on moving towards. He typed in what he was looking for in the search bar and sorted through the results.

It felt alien, almost like admitting weakness, but he knew vulnerability was not the opposite of strength. It was the same thing. It could work for him, it could give him the happy ending he was desperately searching for within the comfort of his depression.

Names after names, numbers after numbers, fears after fears, dreams after dreams, it was all the same. But it was not people’s jobs to show him what they were capable of. It was life, not a sales convention. Learning to appreciate people was a skill to cultivate.

He needed to take responsibility for his ability to connect with the people he was meeting.

His parents would support him, he knew. It was only a matter of him having the courage to face himself. He picked one of the many options he was presented, taking into account the distance away from campus, and dialled the number. He wasn’t going to tolerate the low standard he had been living under anymore.

It had been enough.

“This is Doctor Park’s office; how can I help you today?” A woman’s soft voice spoke.

“Hi, I would like to schedule a therapy session.”

* * *


	14. One Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've felt this way for far too long, waiting for a change to come. You're always trying to see yourself through the eyes of someone else. Too shy to say that you need help, you and everybody else. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment, 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_"We don’t have to do all of it alone._   
_We were never meant to.”_   
_\- Brené Brown_

* * *

Despite exhaustion trying its best to incapacitate her, Jaehee was well aware of the fact that she couldn’t afford the luxury of sleeping until she finished the unholy amount of paperwork Mr. Han had dropped on her desk as if it were nothing more than a tissue. His cat food project had proven to be more of a hassle than she expected, and it was at times like these, that she genuinely questioned why she remained in a job she passionately despised.

She was trying to prove herself she was a functioning and independent member of society, that she was making her parents proud. That by being everything society dictated she should be, she was making her parents happy. The only things she was missing were the husband and children.

How could she ever hope to accomplish that when her job had taken over her life?

But even as she earned obscene amounts of money for her work, and her overtime, a lack of satisfaction plagued her. It was there when she woke up after having only gotten less than five hours of sleep, when she went to bed at 3AM because her boss thought time could be regained through the number of zeroes in your bank account.

Her diet and health had been deteriorating and the scale on her bathroom had begun to accumulate dust from a lack of use. She didn’t know whether she was losing weight or gaining it and part of her was better off not knowing. The exercise machines she had bought were still unpacked by the side of her front door.

Part of her also knew that she was reaching a breaking point. Her mental health was slowly being chipped away. She had become increasingly anxious and depressive, only manifesting these emotions when she was home alone drowning her sorrows in a pint of ice cream and a bottle of wine while watching Zen’s musicals. It was funny how her depression was high functioning while others were unable to get up. Working alleviated her stresses about life but it also induced her anxiety.

Because she didn’t want to worry people. She didn’t want the members of the RFA to fuss over her when she was supposed to be the one who always had her head on straight. She was an unmovable fortress…but she felt like she was built upon pillars of salt and sand. Her feelings weren’t as valid as theirs, she had to keep them to herself, to work on them on her own.

And she hid behind polished suits, pens, paperwork and calendars to conceal the fact that she didn’t know who she truly was beyond an assistant. A role that had absorbed every trace of her identity. She was bereft of true purpose and individuality. She didn’t know what she liked, what she disliked – having spent her entire life living for others. She managed the life of one of the most powerful and rich men in Seoul and she was barely recognized for it. Her life was a mess and she compulsively took care of others when she didn’t know how to take care of herself.

Everyone in the RFA relied on her when they weren’t feeling well. She was the one who took care of them when they were sick. All her life, she had played the role of a mother, even when her own mother was alive. Jaehee couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t in control beyond her parents’ death. It had left a dent in her, a desperate need to make sure everything went according to plan. It was a coping mechanism to make up for the fact that she feared losing herself.

When she was younger, she had taken care of her mother after her father’s death. It had been a survival mechanism. She had taken on the caretaker responsibility, caring and nurturing her when she couldn’t do it herself. Even when she was supposed to be doing the same for her. She had an excessive and unhealthy tendency to rescue and take responsibility for other people. It was well-intentioned but ultimately unproductive. She was an enabler to those around her, letting them use her as a doormat.

The words she uttered were almost a script that had been given to her. Somewhere deep, deep down inside of herself, she knew she was lost. She had no difficulty stripping off the skin of the woman she didn’t recognize in the mirror and getting into character – almost as good of an actress as Zen. She imagined the world around her as a stage, the costume she wasn’t wearing embedded into her skin, as if she were one with it.

Instead of searching for the dreams she had lost somewhere along the way. She would still be here tomorrow, but she knew her dreams no longer were. Finding something that made her happy, something that actually gave her a positive reason to get up in the morning. Something that made her not regret the years she had spent working underneath an emotionally constipated control freak. Her bank account had enough money in case she decided to open up a business, to be her own boss for once. To do whatever she wanted.

She didn’t like the unpredictable. Nothing that couldn’t be categorized into a pattern.

Calypso was exactly everything she disliked.

It wasn’t personal, she had nothing against the new member of the RFA – despite the unconventional way she had joined. It was what her sudden appearance on their life entailed. Everyone had been quick to trust her after V’s decision, but she was not as used to blindly trusting someone as the rest of them. She wasn’t naïve. She had not gotten as far in life as she had by jumping into things headfirst. She was used to taking calculated risks, investing the 15, 16, 18, 26 hours of work that gave her the best position to succeed in what she tried to achieve or not doing it at all.

Yet, there was something she admired and envied about the new member. There was a freedom, dominance and magnetic charisma to her. She had seen it when talking to her and in the way she confidently addressed the rest of the members, even the usually intimidating Mr. Han. She had come to her defence against her boss on more than one occasion, not caring about his position. It was nice to have another female in the sausage party she had been condemned into. 

She was tired of being scared and lonely, of having no one to hold onto but herself, of being perfect all the time. She wanted to let go for once. To dance and drink and ignore all sense of decorum. It was about the decision to show up for herself and be real. The choice to be honest and let her true self be seen. She didn’t know who she was or what she wanted.

It was through this very subtle course of action that Calypso had been slowly creeping her way into the hearts of the members – by giving them exactly what they needed, not what they wanted. By letting them know that they were all worthy of love. It was them sharing their story with someone who responded with empathy and understanding, giving no place for shame to survive.

Jaehee didn’t trust her just yet, despite wanting to.

She had dealt with her fair share of leaked information during the two years she had worked in C&R International. Rumours, false news, bad publicity. She didn’t dare think what would happen if Calypso, a supposed journalist, decided to leak the information the members were constantly sharing. Luciel had decided to tell her he was a secret agent. _Who in their right mind would do that?_

Maybe it wasn’t the only reason, she mused. There was a vulnerability that seemed to follow the new member around – and the more she thought about it, the more it sounded like truth and felt like courage. They weren’t comfortable, that much was certain, but she had shown them it was never weakness.

Sighing, she closed her laptop. She was done with paperwork…at least for a couple of hours before she had to head into the office once again. Her phone had been vibrating with notifications for quite a while now, but she had been far too focused on finishing that she had decided to ignore it for the time being. If it had been anything urgent, she was certain Mr. Han would’ve called her.

Unlocking it, she checked her emails and messages first. It was only after she was certain there was no work left to do that she allowed herself to enter the RFA Messenger. Scrolling down, her breath got caught in her throat, choking a reaction out of her - like a rug being pulled beneath her feet.

She had to blink twice to make sure what she was reading was real. Zen had injured himself while practicing, consequence of Mr. Han teasing him. He had been working so hard towards that role, he had been so excited, it had been such a bright opportunity for his future, ruined by the insensitive comments of a man who had it all, except for the one thing money couldn’t buy.

Trying her best not to direct her anger at her boss, she rationalised the newfound feelings inside of her. She knew how insensitive the heir could be, it wasn’t entirely his fault that he was emotionally constipated. His moral compass was driven mainly by money, it made sense for him to think it was also the solution to everything. His personal life was also a mess.

Noticing Calypso was online, she decided to chat before going to bed. It couldn't hurt. One way or another, she had to find a way to trust her. She had to learn how to let more people in. Besides, she was the only other person in the chat who cared as much about Zen as she did. 

> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Hello, Calypso._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I’m so worried that Zen had to  
>  call 911._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Hello, Jaehee. I feel so bad that  
>  Zen got injured. How are you feeling? Are you  
> okay? _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I was so surprised, but I am  
>  okay. I’m worried about him._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _He practiced so hard he hurt  
>  himself._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I hope he does not get too  
>  upset about missing the rehearsal  
> for his new role.  
>  **Jaehee Kang:** If he gets healthy, he will  
> get his chance again._

Even though she didn’t mean to, Jaehee vented to Calypso her concerns about Zen and his career. He was the one thing that shone brightly in her world when everything seemed dark. She cared for him deeply as a fan and a fellow RFA member, silencing the attraction she felt towards him. She was his friend. She had taken care of him before when he got sick.

He was an attractive man, there was no denying it. Despite him being two years younger than her, she begrudgingly admitted to having derived pleasure from fantasies of him. It had been years since her last relationship, and she knew men were only organic and biodegradable phalluses, nothing that couldn’t be replaced with the right toys.

But even she had to admit that not even the right toys would be as effective unless attached to a face and a body as beautiful as Zen’s. Most of the time, she just repressed those thoughts and pushed them away. It wasn’t right nor professional to think of him that way, but she was only human.

> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _First,_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I will wait to hear from Zen that he  
>  is alright._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Work is important, but nothing can  
>  go above health._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I hope Zen is fully aware of this._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Well…I should get some sleep  
>  before I leave for work._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I’m certain that your concern is not  
>  misplaced. Zen will be thankful that you’re worrying  
> for him. Get some rest, Jaehee._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _You should also get some rest, it's  
>  late. I know you're mindful of your health._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Thank you. ^^_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I hope you don’t worry too much._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Then, I’ll get going._

_Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom._

Jaehee got ready for bed, changing into her nightclothes and brushing her teeth. The room was enveloped by darkness when she turned off the lights and slipped into bed, relishing in the comfort of the soft silk sheets - a gift from her boss - brushing against her skin and coating her in the warmth she craved.

Her head was overflowed with anxiety as she worried for Zen’s career. He was so talented, he worked harder than anyone she had ever met to earn his place in the musical world. It broke her heart to think about the repercussions this injury would possibly have in his collaboration with the idol. It had been a gigantic opportunity to bring attention to himself in the best possible way. There would’ve been talent agencies trailing after him.

It dawned on her that she was worrying over someone else before saving herself first. She sighed as she connected her phone to the charger. She kept on doing this, but she genuinely couldn’t help it. Maybe if she fixed enough lives her own would magically fix itself.

Back to the young actor, she didn’t dare think of how emotionally vulnerable he was right now. She was certain that if given the chance, she’d have to pay him a visit. She’d cook some soup for him and cheer him up by talking about his acting. Maybe convince Mr. Han to help him without him noticing.

But the more she thought about it, the more the idea circled around her head, something felt amiss. She supposed it had to do with the fact that she had noticed the actor’s rapidly growing relationship and emotional connection with Calypso.

She was concerned for his career. A relationship, even a small scandal, could send his dreams shattering into the ground and turning into dust. Fans were the jealous kind, especially if the celebrities were as attractive as him. His life belonged to those to whom he owed his fame to. The headlights, the gifts, the champagne bottles, the paparazzi, it could all disappear in a flash if he did something he wasn’t supposed to.

There was a nagging feeling in the back of her head that told her their relationship was escalating beyond what they showcased in the chatrooms. They seemed to have references that appeared from nowhere, inner jokes only they understood. An understanding that wasn’t displayed in the messages they exchanged, a connection hidden from the rest of them.

Convincing herself she wasn’t jealous was a hard thing to do, but she refused to put her own selfish needs above his career. It baffled her to think Calypso couldn’t do the same for him. They barely knew each other, correct? She had to understand that fame was a fickle thing. That if he focused on her, that if he lost himself for a pair of pretty eyes, he could lose it all.

In the grand scheme of things, if those two wanted to become romantically involved, she supposed she could do nothing but warn them of the consequences it would bring. She could rest easy knowing it wouldn’t be her having a hand in the downfall of a promising career – no matter how much it pained her to not be able to control the outcome.

She knew the members to be too emotional to see her side of things. Mr. Han probably wouldn’t care, Yoosung was too young to understand and Luciel was…well, _Luciel_.

Still, a part of her wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of Zen’s attention and feelings. Would he be a gentle or passionate lover? Would he attempt to keep the relationship a secret or proclaim his love for her from the rooftops and at the top of his lungs? Would he wake up beside her with a smile? Would he make her breakfast?

Perhaps it didn’t even have to be him. She could imagine the arms of a woman around her, the sweet aroma of strawberries of her perfume. The delicate way she’d handle love, only the way a woman could. She could see a bigger closet, matching coffee cups and the holding of hands. Good mornings shared between the sheets and the concern of another. She just wanted someone to take care of her the way she took care of everyone.

Her brain conjured up images she had not thought about in a long time. Of dresses and baking, of cookies and laughter. Of long hair and a love that was hers alone. A love that was truly something, capable of moulding into anything. For a moment, her treacherous mind imagined the name _Calypso_ to personify the woman of her dreams. She could do nothing more than to embrace the idea in the privacy of her head.

Indulging in those thoughts for a bit was a guilty pleasure every once in a while, but like an enamoured teenager, Jaehee knew they were merely a fantasy. Nothing but a phantom of the yearnings of a lonely body and an even lonelier heart. She tried to file away every thought of work, herself and Zen until it was time for her alarm to pry her from the sweet embrace of Morpheus.

She’d worry about visiting, fame and cat food in a couple of hours when she downed her third cup of coffee of the day while scanning over paperwork.

But a girl could dream.

* * *


	15. Persephone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you've noticed it. There is something right here. You have come to love, yes, you've come to love what you always will fear.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“A very small degree of hope is sufficient  
to cause the birth of love.”  
\- Stendhal_

* * *

She had been in another realm of headspace altogether. Ever since uncovering the secrets concealed within Rika’s computer her senses had been on high alert. Tracking every movement, every sound, every feeling. Once Pandora’s box had been opened, it could never be closed again. It would take and consume.

Tracing every call, inspecting every message, every email. She had listened in on Jumin’s conversations to no avail, hacked into their phones, tracked them – nothing had proved fruitful.

Her theories owned her mind, looking for evidence of her suspicions. As if she were looking for signs of an unfaithful lover.

Slowly, despite her best efforts, she had also been consumed by thoughts of a white-haired man with an angelical voice. Her past haunted her, reminded her of what happened when she got emotionally involved with a possible target. The scar on her side was a painful reminder of what love could do to her if misplaced. She had been too young, too naïve – too eager to love.

But when she thought about him, about what it would feel like to just kiss him, she begged the warmth that surrounded her chest to quiet down. For her imagination to end such madness and let her get on with her life.

Zen had injured himself and she was worried for him. Both Yoosung and Luciel had claimed that he healed unnaturally fast, but…was just healing physically enough? He’d be unable to practice for that role he was so excited about. A flash of his grinning face and excited voice hit her suddenly and she smiled sadly. She really hoped he healed fast.

His whole life revolved around his career; she didn’t even want to think of what it would do to him if he lost the role. It was so important to him; therefore, it was important to her.

At one point, he had told her that they could meet somewhere. Maybe go grab a cup of coffee or have lunch together. It had been pushed to the back of her mind, where she tried to repress the idea. He had also been extremely busy, so she assumed he had also forgotten about it. 

The idea had remained at the back of her head, like a snake ready to strike at the worst of times. Countless times, she had found herself planning the perfect date. Wine, cheese, grass, moonlight, flowers, fruit, and a breathtaking view.

Now he was injured, and she had hit another dead end with her investigation. The information that came in was just an overflow of drug reports. Reading them all had turned out to be uncomfortable, with descriptions of how the subjects reacted to the side effects. Some of them had reports of torture to subdue the “unbreakable”. She was no stranger to torture, having been on both ends of it, but she didn’t enjoy it unless the person she was torturing was a monster.

She had dealt with most of the trauma that lingered after being tortured, but the dreams never went away. The triggers remained waiting for her to find one of them and throw her off balance. It was forgetting about the fear until it had her paralysed underneath the power of its influence on her mind and body.

There had been suggestions of her visiting Zen throughout the day. A big part of her longed to say yes, to get lost and forget about her mission just for a little while; but another part of her knew, as she covered her face with her hands, that it probably wouldn’t end well for her.

Theirs was a love that could hinge on possibility – what they could offer each other was infinite potential. Reality had never really stood a chance against that kind of promise. She feared loving him in a way that felt both inexplicable and inevitable. He represented a singular perfection. He had to because he contained none of the trappings of a real relationship, the awkward, the beautiful, the sweet, the ordinary, the holding hands in public, the shared coffee cups, the bickering at the farmer’s market. He was perfect in part because he was an escape, he seemed to always offer more.

He made her dream of lives that could never be hers.

She sat there, phone in hand, wearing less than she should – aware that Luciel was constantly watching her, letting the cold in and the fire out, pretending that her emotional involvement didn’t mean anything when she knew it was all that mattered. Pretending she didn’t kill her lover for betraying her. Pretending a narcissistic, charming, and funny white-haired man hadn’t broken her walls down and had begun building them back up with him inside of them. 

_It’s absolutely foolish._ She chastised herself whenever she caught herself thinking about him. Which, to her dismay, was constantly. _I should not be daydreaming about a man like some hormonal and curious teenager._

Rationalising that her desire to see him could be linked to her mission was just mockery. When Yoosung had offered to bring her along, she had instantly said yes. Zen needed someone to comfort him and she was trained to do that, she could do it. She could go and wrap her arms around him and protect him from the rest of the world. She could…

Jaehee had also offered to visit him in her place, and even though it pained her, she had also agreed that if she couldn’t go, it would be great for the young assistant to go. Of course, her constant reminders of what would happen to Zen if she got too close to him had also been a great deterrent. His career was on the line. She knew how different fame worked in this country. It wasn’t like the rest of the world, where you could get into a scandal and it would just give you a bigger platform.

Not only that, but Jumin’s logic had made her laugh. He was clueless, she knew. She really did appreciate him coming to her defence…although she was certain he didn't know he was doing it. He did like to tease Jaehee quite a bit. He had argued that even if Jaehee went, it wouldn’t change the fact that she was the person Zen wanted to see.

Her assurances had also fallen on deaf ears and she genuinely couldn’t blame Jaehee, for she didn’t buy them herself.

> **_Yoosung:_ ** _I don’t need to go with you_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _but to be honest, I’m really curious of what  
>  you look like too, so I want to tag along._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _But I’m sure that Zen wants to see you  
>  alone…_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _If I can help him, even if it’s  
>  just a little bit, I’d like to go._

Her mind, her words and her emotions rioted against her, forcing her to follow her limbic system instead of her brain. What could she possibly do? If people saw them together, and they would because her appearance drew a lot of attention, they could start speculating.

She didn’t want to harm his career, despite what Jaehee thought of her. It was his dream, the reason he woke up in the morning. She had felt the same way when she retired, when she was getting ready to move into an island for a while. The promise of everything she had achieved resulting in the flavourful fruit of an elevated sense of self.

Of looking at the person staring back at her in the mirror and not hating what she saw.

And if she allowed herself to think it could go beyond the physical realm, she could end up with a dagger in her heart instead of her side. It was a double-edged sword. A fate she wouldn’t be able to control. She felt her defences breaking down, fighting them started to seem useless.

> **_ZEN:_ ** _Calypso!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Yoosung_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _and Seven_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _both want you to come visit me haha._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _What do you think?_

Her suffocating grip on her emotions had softened at his reaction. She was playing with fire, flying too close to the sun. Her wings would melt, and she’d fall. And, yet, wouldn’t it be a grand and beautiful fall? Another fall from grace. What was adding another one to the list?

> **_Calypso:_ ** _I’d like to go! I’d go now  
>  if I could. I’d run to you, just to see you._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _That just_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _made my_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _heart jump._

And as soon as his picture arrived, she saved it. She smiled, looking at his face longingly. How could she feel this way without having ever seen him in person? It had only been six days. It had taken her weeks to fall for the matriarch. Nothing had ever felt like this. Was it the cultural difference? He was so sweet, so charming, so chivalrous. Perhaps she wasn't used to it, having only dealt with sleazy men. _A_ was the only man she actually trusted with her life. How could she yearn for one she had barely known?

But it was a lie, was it not? She knew him. They had shared things in the dead of night, secrets and trauma. Hers mostly truths disguised as lies. He had shown her vulnerability and she had reciprocated like never before.

She was lying to herself to protect herself. It wouldn’t work for long, because once she depended on the lie to remain emotionally secure, she’d protect the lie.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as Jaehee logged in and saw the messages, she tried to warn them of the consequences. Calypso battled with it. What if she got him killed? What if the people who were following her, who were trying to recruit her, decided to go after him? She’d die trying to save him if needed.

Hers was a life filled with death and blood. A life of solitude of trusting no one, of carrying sins and loving the black flag and nothing else. A life meant to be spent on the move.

Yet she had retired for that reason alone. She had left it all behind, hadn’t she? She could leave it, she could settle.

She was forbidding herself from loving. It was utopian by nature. The prime characteristic of the limital universe she dreamed of – and the key to its irresistible power – was that it was unattainable. It was, by definition, elusive, precarious and ambiguous. The indeterminacy, the uncertainty, the not knowing if I can ever have you. Because she couldn’t have him, it ensured she kept wanting, for humans always wanted what they could not have.

What if they went after him while she wasn’t there? He had a better chance of surviving or escaping if she was there. Her heart tergiversated everything desperately, holding her in an iron fist grip of fear. Holding her with dangerous hope and misplaced belonging.

Seven had been suggested for a visit, and she had narrowed her eyes at it. He wasn’t out of the woods on her book, either. The truth about his brother lingered in her mind, the eyes of a broken boy who had been abandoned. Did he still talk to his brother? Did he know? What could possibly make him turn a blind eye to it if he did?

> **_Calypso:_ ** _I understand your position, Jaehee._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I know we haven’t known each other  
>  for long…but I think I care about him as much  
> as the others do._

And as she typed her next message, the truth washed over her like ice cold water. It was a truth she wanted to avoid, an echo of a lost lover. She was terrified of it to the point in which she couldn’t talk about it.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _Perhaps even more._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I know this may seem like an  
>  inconvenience to you, but it means  
> something to me._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Calypso…_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _…you must care for Zen  
>  sincerely._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I do._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _You don’t know how happy your  
>  words have made me._

Jaehee continued to explain her point of view objectively. It felt like death by a thousand cuts whenever Calypso mentally agreed with her. The agent inside of her took over, knowing that Jaehee’s answers could prove useful to her. She’d need to gain her trust if she planned to milk information out of her. It was an attempt at distracting her hummingbird heart.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _Jaehee, you don’t think I’m  
>  dangerous, do you?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _No way._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I don’t think you have to doubt her  
>  since V said she was okay…_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _To be honest, it was a surprise  
>  that she suddenly joined the RFA._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _And I think that in order to know  
>  what kind of person she is, we need more time._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _…so that’s what you think._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _If I dare give you both a small  
>  piece of advice, I think it’s best if you go forward  
> with the relationship after the party._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _In other words, after we all  
>  actually meet her in person._

She smiled bitterly, having her work cut out for her. She’d have to engage with her more, earn her trust. Finding her weak spots, any emotional openings she could exploit. Calypso liked Jaehee, she knew what it felt like to work underneath powerful men, how untrusting and careful you had to be. It made her wonder just what kind of life had Jaehee lived, what kind of demons chased away her sleep. Perhaps they could one day be friends.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _If that’s what’s best for Zen, I’ll  
>  make sure to keep it in mind._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I know how much you care for  
>  him._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Thank you for being so  
>  understanding._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Hm._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I wonder if there’s a need to be that  
>  cautious. Looking at all the messages Calypso has  
> sent us until now…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I’m certain that she is a kind and  
>  generous person._

She chuckled. Wishing she were just an average woman who got stuck with this situation. It was but a dream. Perhaps if she truly had been just a normal woman, she wouldn’t feel as guilty as she did now. Her past was filled with things no kind and generous person would ever do. Her book was dripping, overflowing with blood. As were her hands and tongue.

> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Please excuse me, but the  
>  kind and generous Calypso we see in this messenger  
> could be anyone. Anyone can fool others with words._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _You have to meet a person  
>  face to face to know._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I guess I’ll have to see her, then._

The defiance in his words did something to her. The fire and passion concealed within the small seemingly meaningless messages. He didn’t doubt her. He vouched for her despite not having ever touched her.

> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I wish you would be more careful in  
>  making decisions rather than rushing to meet her._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I know that Calypso is not someone we  
>  should be worried about…I can feel it._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _At least to me, she’s completely  
>  trusthworthy._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Shouldn’t we stop being selfish and not  
>  doubt her, and instead, think about how flustered she  
> must be to have suddenly joined our organization  
> like this?_

Her missions had always been lonely, always filled with distrust and deceit. Her informants had always been wary. She had never been gifted trust this easily, this eagerly. She felt a tear slipping from her eye as she choked back a sob. He didn’t know what or who she was, and he was so willing to trust her fully. He thought about how she felt instead of accusing her, so selfless and attentive. It was a first. Was she always this lonely? This desperate for affection?

> **_Calypso:_ ** _I understand your position, Jaehee._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Thank you for trusting me, Zen. For  
>  believing in me._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Calypso…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _You’re a good person._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I know it._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I can feel it with my heart._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _In every message, call and  
>  word. I know you’re a good person._

She had nothing but the means to break his heart. She would complete her mission and disappear from their lives forever. There was a destructive nature to her job that she could never seem to shake off. In her heart, her cold and broken heart, she knew she couldn’t hurt him like this. She was being selfish. Did she really think he would run away in a boat with her? It was maddening to know he wanted her just as much, that they would end up not being able to fight it.

Did she really think the story would somehow end up differently? After she uncovered the truth, after she turned their entire lives upside down, there was a chance he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. There was a chance her fantasy would crash down right in front of her as soon as she had the guilty one chained or shot down.

_It is one of the many perks that came with the job_ , she thought bitterly.

After the conversation ended, she was left alone with her thoughts. The chat replayed on her mind mockingly, reminding her of all the things she could never have. Of what would happen if she got too close to him. She supposed it was a blessing in disguise that she had yet to meet him in person. How would she be able to hold her heart back if she met him?

If she allowed herself the indulgence of his skin against hers, of his lips. Of his hands, of his heart beating against hers. Of her closet discarded on his bedroom floor, of his eyes.

It would be her downfall. It would take her in the coldest of undertows.

It was barely an hour later that her phone rang, breaking her out of the grim reverie she had been hostage to. She raised an eyebrow and reached for it, her eyes widening in surprise as she looked at the caller ID, it was not every day that he called. Pressing accept, she brought the phone close to her ear.

“Mr. Han, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She greeted; her tone sultry as she walked to the balcony of the apartment, watching the city lights shine brightly underneath her.

“Are you busy?” He questioned, straight to the point.

She pretended to be typing away at her laptop for a couple of seconds. Closing her eyes and breathing in the night air. In the middle of an emotional breakdown, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to anyone but her fathers.

Everything seemed so little from where she stood. The world reduced to tiny specks of light, nothing more than small dots varying in colour. Red, orange, green, blue, pink, purple – the city vibrated with the life of a thousand people breathing in the same air as her. Living in the same moment as her.

With their own set of troubles, with their failures and goals. They all lived in the right time, even if it didn’t feel like it sometimes. Even if the world threatened to swallow them, they kept on climbing, battling against the tidal wave.

“Not anymore. Can I help you?”

“Have dinner with me.” He ordered. She repressed the urge to laugh. He dared order her around? He had never met a woman like her, that was certain. To think he could command her to his desire.

“Now?”

“Yes, come to my apartment. I presume you know where I live after our brief interaction, correct? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. Work related, of course.”

She licked her lips and smiled mischievously.

“ _Of course_.”

* * *


	16. Libra Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I know exactly where my devotions lie. Let me make this clear I do not care for planetary motions. I have no idea who brought you here to sweep me off my feet. You may be excused for thinking you deserve to be adored. No, we're not meant to be just because you're Mr. Libra Man.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_"You can seduce a man without taking_ _  
anything off, without even touching him."  
\- Rae Dawn Chong_

* * *

The cold chill of the night brushed against him as he stood in his balcony, overlooking the city with his hands in his pockets. Jumin ran a hand through his hair and fixed his suit, checking the wrists were buttoned. Work had been exhausting lately and he had been dealing with his father wanting to engage him to a woman he wasn’t attracted to. He could spot a gold digger from miles away and he knew that Sarah Choi was one.

With expensive and useless jewellery, luxurious fabrics and her top shelf alcohol, he knew he wasn’t about to spend the rest of his life getting his money slowly drained out of him. He had seen it happen to his father more than enough times. No pretty face and amazing body were enough to sustain a happy and successful marriage. Marriage was, after all, just another business contract. Just one that had to be done carefully.

He had spent years avoiding the women who wished nothing more than the status that came from his money and his fame within the business world. They had never taken an interest in getting to know him, never disagreed with him despite him knowing he was wrong, never attempted to establish intelligent conversation, never defied him.

It was ironic, somehow, how he desired a woman who burned like whiskey on the fire but that was willing to temper the flame for him.

As if on cue, a bodyguard approached him from behind. “She’s here, sir.”

“Let her in.” He ordered, holding onto the railing and breathing slowly to calm himself.

Calypso, the stranger who had suddenly and mysteriously appeared in the RFA’s chatroom, fit the bill perfectly. Perhaps it could be attributed to the fact that she came from a different culture, but there was no taming her. She had openly defied him in the chatrooms, and during their two short interactions, he had been taken aback by how confident and bold she was. Her casual statement about the true nature of flirting had stuck with him.

“Mr. Han.” Came her sultry voice behind him. He turned around and attempted his best at keeping his gaze solely focused on her dark eyes.

He was unable to. No woman had ever affected him the way she did, and he had been around multiple beautiful women throughout his life. She wore a long mustard yellow dress that exposed her right leg and hugged her every curve dangerously. She was a tall and fit woman and he couldn’t help but wonder just how it would feel to have those long and tan legs of hers wrapped around him. The cleavage of the dress allowed him a peak at her tattoo.

Reminding himself he had invited her for professional matters proved to be difficult as he noticed the crimson paint of her luscious lips and the way she bit her bottom lip as she smirked at him.

“Just Jumin is fine.” He reminded her, bowing slightly to her. “Please, this way.”

He directed her to the dining table, where he had had his personal chef prepare all sorts of delicacies for them to enjoy while they discussed business. He noticed that instead of sitting beside him, she sat in front of him, establishing the fact that they were equals. Taken aback, he supressed a smile. Oh, yes, no woman had ever treated him this way. It was exhilarating.

“Please, eat whatever you want.” He motioned to the food. “You must be hungry.”

“Thank you.” She replied, standing up with her plate in hand and approaching the table with food. He followed every delicious movement of her hips, deciding it would be best if he focused on the matter at hand instead of the lust threatening to consume him every time he looked at her.

“I recommend the Moroccan food.” He suggested. She smiled as she held her empty plate, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

It irked him that she wasn’t being as receptive as she usually was. “I appreciate the suggestion.”

Then she proceeded to serve Italian food onto her plate while winking at him.

He wasn’t quite certain whether she had just not wanted to eat what he suggested or whether she was just openly defying him. It mattered not.

His butler poured them both a glass of wine when they sat down. It wasn’t until his servant left that he finally looked at her.

“I presume you must be wondering what kind of job offer required me inviting you to dine with me.” He began.

At last, she finally looked at him. His breath got caught in his throat when their gazes met. There was a burning intensity written there like a war cry. “I won’t deny that I’m curious.”

He nodded, taking a bite of his food and chewing slowly, relishing in the combined flavours of the food. She waited for his answer patiently, sipping her wine and licking her lips. Swallowing his food, he spoke again.

“It is no secret that Zen wishes to meet you. I’m interested in him modelling for my new cat food line, but it seems he needs to be convinced.”

“And you assume I’m the best person for the job?” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him questioningly.

“I know you are. He’s smitten by you.” He expected a reaction with his next words. “Of course, I cannot blame him.”

She smirked at him, bringing the glass of wine to her lips once again and waiting for him to continue.

“Persuaded by the right emotions, there’s a high probability of him agreeing to the modelling contract. If you’re interested, I’m willing to pay you.”

Her expression suddenly became blank, devoid of any emotion, as she looked at him. “I understand.”

Jumin perceived that he’d somehow crossed a line, but there was no way of knowing until she said so herself. “Are you interested?”

As soon as the poker face came, it was soon replaced with a polite impersonal smile he recognized all too well from having used it himself plenty of times.

“You’re saying you’re willing to send me to him if I get him to say yes.” She stated. As soon as he opened his mouth to reply, she raised her hand, signalling she wasn’t done talking yet. “Allow me to make something clear, Jumin.”

He raised an eyebrow at her sudden mention of his name. He wasn’t used to people addressing by his first name that often.

“I’ll go to him, and I’ll mention the idea to him, but his decision is not mine to make. I am not interested in money; I’ve got plenty of that myself.” Her lips curved into a smile. “If you facilitate our meeting, I’ll do it for free. Think of it as a token of our friendship.”

“I see.” He simply replied.

“The most important things in life are not transactional. If everything is seen as a trade-off, nothing will ever be done for its own sake. Whenever we approach things this way it is because we’re afraid of negative repercussions.”

He thought about her words for a moment, understanding that he saw most things as a transaction. If he made his assistant work overtime, he could simply pay her more. And, yet, when his father asked him to meet him it was not because he expected to get something out of it, but simply because he enjoyed spending time with his father when he wasn’t surrounded by the kind of women he genuinely disliked. Still, someone doing something for him just because they wanted to...it didn't make sense.

“I’ll present the idea to him, but nothing more.” She finalised.

“We have a deal, then.” He conceded, raising his glass.

“Not a deal, a favour.” She corrected, raising her own glass.

The rest of the meal was spent talking about art, music and the finer things in life. He was amazed at how much she knew about the world. She had detailed her travels around the world in search of the right story or for vacations and he shared his own stories. The fact that she had said she had plenty of money had not gone unnoticed by him – it had only added to his decision to make her another offer. If she wasn’t interested in money, perhaps she’d be interest in something else.

It was only around the time that dessert came, that he began introducing the topic to her slowly.

“Assistant Kang is unaware of our meeting; I hope you understand the need to keep it a secret.”

“Oh?” She licked her lips. “Does she not know that we’ve already met in person?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant for her to know. I understand her hesitation towards you, she’s always been meticulous with the people we associate with. I hope you don’t hate her for being so uptight.”

He enjoyed the rich sound of her chuckling. “I don’t hate her. I do appreciate you trusting me, though.”

“It’s more like I trust V. Save your thanks for him.” He counselled.

“You two seem very close. I presume you’ve been friends for a long time?”

“We grew up together, played in the same neighbourhood for hours on end.” He narrated. “He was always hesitant towards pursuing his talent, but I encouraged him to do what he truly wanted. He's off travelling right now.”

She hummed, tilting her head to the side. “I haven’t heard much from him other than his relationship with Rika. Thank you for sharing with me.”

He calculated his odds and decided it was time. “Since we’re talking about trust, the only things I deem reliable are cats, money and, despite not liking my father, I trust family.”

“You don’t like your father?” She inquired, delicately digging her fork into the soft chocolate cake she had been offered by the servants.

“I don’t like his playboy attitude towards women. Perhaps _hate_ would be a more appropriate word. But I do like him as a businessman.” He explained. “Since my company is a family business, there’s no point in what I do if I don’t trust my family.”

A sudden veil of sadness covered her eyes. Confused, he decided not to pry.

“Zen said he doesn’t talk to his family…it must be hard for him.”

Jumin had always been sceptic of love and affections but seeing the glint of sadness that covered her features as she spoke, he couldn’t help but to notice that the beautiful woman in front of him genuinely cared for the actor. It baffled him, but he knew he couldn’t let feelings get in the way of his business proposition.

“I don’t care much about his family history, but he grew up on his own since middle school, so I’m sure his story is complicated.” Jumin stated. “But now that he’s an adult, I suggest he tries to repair his relationship with them.”

She seemed unconvinced, but concurred, nonetheless. “You may be right but overcoming trauma from family is particularly hard. It’s best to be careful when telling him that.”

“Family is family whether you like it or not. Running away all the time is a foolish decision.” He debated calmly. To him, it wasn’t that hard to understand.

The poker face she had donned before returned. “Regardless of its nature, it’s a decision.”

“Now that he is an adult, shouldn’t he stop running away and compromise a bit to build a relationship where he can ask for help when he’s sick?” He continued. “I may seem nosy, but I’m saying this in his best interests, for once.”

A mischievous smile spread across her face. “Maybe you like him?”

“I never said that I don’t like him.” Jumin shook his head, his black locks moving along. “We may disagree on some things, but I care for him.”

A sudden purr underneath the table brought his attention back to the matter at hand. He reached down and petted Elizabeth the 3rd gently. Calypso’s attention was drawn to the small furball and she chuckled in amusement.

“Is that the famous Elizabeth the 3rd?” She laughed, bending down slightly to get a better look at her. “She’s adorable.”

The cat suddenly left his side, walking towards his guest and purring against her toned leg. He watched as she waited for his permission before petting her.

“Go ahead.” He consented.

Fascinated by the cat’s response to her, he was only more convinced of the fact that she was perfect for the job. She scratched behind the cat’s ears and complimented her. He felt a sudden pang in his chest, the loneliness inside of him threatening to crawl its way out. He pushed it back down, clearing his throat and standing up.

Walking to her, he offered her his hand. “Care to join me? You’ll like the view from here.”

Graciously, she stood up and took it. Her hand was soft and warm and Jumin had a sudden urge to not let go and just keep her there with him.

He walked her to the balcony and closed the door behind him to give them privacy. When he turned back to address her, she was resting against the railing, staring down at the city like it belonged to her. He wanted nothing more than to offer her the entire city if that’s what she wanted.

Jumin would’ve liked to stare at her all night, but he had another offer for her.

“I’ve got another proposition for you.” He enunciated, walking closer to her until they were face to face. She wasn’t a short woman, he liked being able to look at her without having to crane his neck down.

“Well, do tell me, Mr. Han.” She teased, tilting her head to the side and smiling seductively.

“I’ll keep this short.” He clarified before talking. _This was it._ “My father wants me to marry a woman I don’t like as a person nor find attractive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And what would you have me do for you?”

He couldn’t help the magnetic energy that kept drawing him close to her. It got to the point where he had caged her between his arms and the railing. Still, she seemed unencumbered and unfazed by it. As if he wasn’t a threat to her.

“Pretend to be my fiancée. Just until I can get my father off my back. I’ll pay you generously for your troubles.”

She narrowed her yes. “Why me?”

“You’re the only woman I know besides Assistant Kang who wouldn’t take advantage of the situation. You claim you have no need for money so I know you wouldn’t exploit the situation.”

With every word, he got closer to her, the aroma of basil and wine in her breath drawing him in like a siren. She placed her hands on his chest, fisting the material of his suit.

“I could recommend someone.” She shivered when he placed his hand on her hip.

He looked into her eyes, dark as a black hole, threatening to swallow him entirely. He wondered what it would be like, to just simply bend down a little bit and connect his lips to her, to see if the reality compared to the fantasy.

Whether she consented or not.

“I want you.” He breathed against her, the sudden warmth in his body travelling south as his hips brushed against hers. “I want you, not a woman who doesn’t know the value of what I just offered.”

“I know women who would not take advantage of the situation. I can recommend them to you.” She countered, feeling him closing in on her. “They’d have a better use for the money than I would.”

“And, yet, every time I look at you…I wonder if he would treat you just as good as I would.” He rasped, his forehead resting against hers as he looked at her straight in the eyes.

He was certain his pupils were dilated.

“It’s a generous offer, Jumin.” She noted, her hands letting go of their aggressive grip on his suit. She fixed it and wrapped her lean arms around his neck slowly, her chest brushing against his almost agonizingly as he focused on the sensation of her skin against his.

The rational part of him knew he shouldn’t be flirting with the woman Zen grew to care for. He knew it was wrong to pull this sort of move underneath his friend’s nose. But, from the moment he first met her and every interaction in the chatroom and outside of it, he had developed a maddening desire to possess her. To own her body and her mind, to be the only one who got to discover what it felt like to have that fiery mouth doing more than just talking.

“What do you say?”

He closed his eyes as he leaned in closer, he could feel her lips almost brushing against his – her breath mixing with his own. Trembling with anticipation and desire, he wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling the softness of her skin.

“No.” She whispered, her lips brushing against his as she disentangled herself from his embrace and walked towards the door, opening it and lingering in the frame of it for a few seconds as she decided what to say. 

He was left with nothing but the cold’s dark embrace and empty arms. Stunned, he turned to look at her form lingering in the doorway, her hand resting there.

“I’ll talk to Zen about the cat commercial and I’ll email some CVs to you from the women who I know would do the job perfectly. I've got connections.” She turned her head slightly to look at him. “My feelings belong to another, I hope you understand.”

“I…” Left speechless, he didn’t know how to apologize for his actions.

“For our sake, we’ll both pretend this didn’t happen. Tomorrow, you’ll send someone to escort me to his house, and we’ll pretend it came from nowhere.” She smiled once again. “And I can attest to the women who can take on the job of getting rid of an undesired engagement.”

“Very well.”

“Maybe you just like the idea of me, Jumin. Not me. I’m not something to control or own.” Her tone was meant to be comforting, but he felt it like a slap to the face.

She closed the door behind her when she left, leaving him with nothing but the silence to accompany him.

He had certainly never met a woman like her.

* * *


	17. The Archer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been the archer, I've been the prey. Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Abruptly the poker of memory stirs the ashes of  
recollection and uncovers a forgotten ember, still smouldering  
down there, still hot, still flowing, still red as red.”  
\- William Manchester_

* * *

Her return to the apartment was as graceful as a drunk elephant’s parade across a glass store. In the dark, she had crawled all the way to the bathroom, and in the sterile aroma of the room, she had emptied the contents of her stomach. For the first time in her life, she had been unable to sleep with a target, to give them what they wanted…all because she had thought about Zen’s smiling face. She had been prepared to give Jumin what he wanted, to manipulate him and use the information that he had. Yet, as her mind tried to get her to bend to _his_ will, a million thoughts ran through her mind – telling her that he didn’t know much, based on the calls, emails and what little interaction he had with V.

Guilt ate her away as she scrubbed her skin raw underneath the water’s pressure. She felt dirty, used by her own mind and body. Angry at herself, she couldn’t help but to call herself weak. If she had not been stupid enough to get involved with the young actor, she would’ve easily enjoyed a night of passion with the heir. He was an attractive man, if not controlling.

Body language was easy to understand after so many years out in the field, and she had understood every intention lurking in the shadows of the claims he smoothly threw her way. Recognizing every symptom of emotional negligence and repressed feelings, every hint of a crippling need for control because otherwise his mental stability would crumble along with his empire. He had lusted for her, but he had not cared for her. It was the line where most people played, a grey area where – if you were there to begin with – you had already lost.

Every corner of her mind screamed at her to do it, to just be done with it and obtain what she had come for. It had been like staring at herself through the eyes of a spectator – giving herself one of those looks that seemed to suggest that single-celled lifeforms possessed more intelligence than she did. Feeling his desire for her brushing against the yellow fabric of her dress, she had been overwhelmed by the need to escape. Wishing it was someone else holding her, someone else about to kiss her.

She had slid into the comfort of her bed, choosing to remain in the dark with nothing but the light of the phone’s screen to light up the room.

Then, the dam opened, and she wept like a child. She cried until she couldn’t breathe anymore, until her pillow was damp with her pain, until her lungs burned, and her eyes became puffy. It was as if she had never learned her lesson. As if putting a blade through the chest of a past lover repeatedly hadn’t taught her that love was nothing but a hindrance. A caveat of what happened to those who were unable to keep their feelings in check.

Why was she doing this to herself? She was waiting, watching, hating and hoping whatever feelings she had started to develop weren’t enough for her to do something stupid. She wanted to feel something, to truly go beyond meaningless sex that translated into ephemeral physical love. Self-destructing herself so no one else would do it. Reaching for the unattainable and thinking she’d grasp something she could never have.

She wasn’t good. Her hands and tongue were dripping with blood. Even though most of her targets had been far from innocent, it didn’t change the fact that she had crossed a line normal people would never dare cross – taken a life. Taken _many_ lives. Numbness had dug its tendrils so deep inside of her that she no longer flinched at it, no longer felt anything as she watched their eyes turn cold and empty when the last of their strength slithered away in a trail of blood.

“Fuck!” She growled, hitting her pillow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

With every reiteration, she delivered another deadly blow to the pillow. It wasn’t long until the entire bed was thrashed into a mess. She snarled curses, growled out the rules she had been taught her entire life, and taunted herself by repeating _Sicily_ over and over as a reminder of what she’d done. No love was worth losing herself in grief once again.

After the death of the woman she had loved, she had thrown herself into endless missions. _A_ had hesitated to give her the most violent ones, but he had relented. She had been tortured, raped, forced to withstand extreme conditions – trained to endure and never break, no matter the circumstances. She had mutilated bodies and drowned with their blood. She had broken herself past the point of no return.

It had only been after _A_ had found her drunk and with a gun to her head that he had finally intervened. He had cradled her like a child, rocking both of them back and forth and singing her a lullaby he had only sung to her when she was an infant. He had held her face between his palms and dragged her out of the black hole she had turned into.

Agreeing to look for help, she had gone to therapy. Battled against her demons, against the unresolved abandonment issues of parents who had paid the agency for a favour with their new-born. She had relived the death of a woman who could’ve been her mother, learned how to fight the guilt. Her depression had never left, she had just learned how to live with it. Collided against the irrational ideals she had held her entire life, to prove herself they weren’t real. Crashed into the trauma she had endured from her missions.

It took her years before her therapist declared she was ready to face the world with a brand-new sense of self. She had been excited, happy and elated to take that step. _A_ , the man who raised her and had always had a soft spot for her, had allowed her to leave the agency. She had been out of it for only a couple of months before he asked her to return for one last mission. He had, after all, secured her a nice and comfortable position in the company of one of their allies. Genuinely believing he was joking, she had agreed. She had never expected to find herself in this situation, bonding with the people she was supposed to be investigating and bringing down. This was one of the most difficult missions she had ever had, with information and leads so scarce she believed she was starving.

She stood amid her hurricane of emotions, panting and crying silently, watching the crumpled sheets and pillows on the floor unmoving.

This was her last mission. She was walking besides Thanatos, the Greek god of death, one last time, following him into the darkest parts of the Tartarus, burning in the flames of the decisions she’d be forced to make.

Slowly, she picked up her mess and made the bed perfectly, leaving no trace of her breakdown behind. A light and a ping from the bedside table warned her of someone having entered the chatroom. She ran a hand through her hair, fixing it and unlocked the phone.

Greeted by the sight of Zen’s texting, she smiled.

> **_ZEN:_ ** _Hey, Calypso!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Hello, hello_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I feel better seeing you this late!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Hey, handsome. I feel better  
>  seeing you here this late too._

She choked out a wet laugh when she noticed Jaehee’s presence in the chatroom. If only the poor young woman knew what Calypso had been up to in the past few hours. Would she hate her more?

> **_ZEN:_ ** _Why are Seven, Yoosung and  
>  Jumin suddenly talking about their families?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _They’re worried about you. We  
>  all are. It must be really hard for you._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Really?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I’m thankful if that’s the case, but  
>  I hope they don’t think I’m pathetic. _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Of course, no one thinks  
>  you’re pathetic._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Everyone including me is very  
>  worried for you._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Why are you up this late, Zen?_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _You always rehearsed late into  
>  the night, but shouldn’t you be resting right now? _
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Everything okay, handsome?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Oh, don’t worry lol_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Since I can’t move my body, I  
>  have so much energy right now;;_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _So, I can’t sleep._

Blocking out all thoughts from her mind, Calypso smiled playfully as she texted her next words.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _You have to exercise to sleep._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Right?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I want to exercise so bad._

She licked her lips, thinking about all the ways she could help him exercise. He wouldn’t even have to move much, just buck his hips into her. She would gladly do most of the work.

> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _You have to get better  
>  soon…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _So, I’m practicing the lines and  
>  songs for the role!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Handsome…_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Are you still holding onto it?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _They said you heal unusually fast  
>  but do you think you’ll be able to do it?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _No…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I know that I have to let it go._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _But I just feel like I’m going to lose  
>  my mind if I don’t practice something. Anything. _
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Even if I can’t do it, nothing bad will  
>  come out of practicing, right? _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _That is true but…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _…but the more I practice, the  
>  more I want to do it. This role…_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I know it’s hard, handsome.  
>  You’ll get many more offers, we all  
> believe so._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I really can’t stand losing the  
>  chance to act._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I thought this time I would get  
>  a lot of sponsors and everyone would have  
> the chance to act without worrying about  
> the money…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _It’s such a shame, seriously._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I feel so bad seeing you  
>  go through such a hard time. _
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I feel like I’m just worrying  
>  everyone. I’m so sorry._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _The more I can’t move my body…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _…the more free time I have…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _…and the more I think about how I  
>  failed._

She smiled sadly, knowing exactly how he felt. Having been there plenty of times before, she knew there was not much he could do but to challenge those ideas. To face the reality and make the best he could out of the situation. While not easily defeated, those thoughts were far from invincible.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _If you stay in your head, you’re dead._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I know it’s hard not to think like that,  
>  but you’ll get better soon. I’m certain you can  
> get an even better role. Everything will be just  
> fine once you’re back on your feet once again._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Thanks…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Thank you for trying to encourage me._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I’ll try to cheer up for you._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _If I could…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I wish I could bring you here and  
>  talk with you. _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Instead of Calypso, why don’t  
>  you take this opportunity to reconnect with your family? _
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _That’s a good idea if you’re  
>  up for it! _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _If you genuinely care for Zen as  
>  well, Calypso, _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I hope you emphasize the importance  
>  of family as well. _
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _What is up with everyone? Haha._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I agree with what Mr. Han said  
>  before. You can always trust family. Even if it’s  
> awkward now…I think it’s something you must  
> go through at one point. _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Especially when you’re  
>  having a difficult time, you can rely on your family  
> without expecting anything in return. _

Calypso held the urge to scoff, with the experience she had with her own family, she didn’t truly believe so. It was more complicated than what people made it out to be. Taking shit from your family just because you were bonded by blood was a toxic idea that most people thought to be normal, but she wasn’t about to get into a psychological argument with Jaehee. Instead, she’d give him an opening to refuse if he decided it was what was best for him.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _Of course, it’s for you to decide, handsome._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Perhaps, one day, when you’re ready, you  
>  can return to your family, just like Seven said. _
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Return to my family?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I never expected Seven to say that._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _If that’s what you think, I’ll think about  
>  it. Although, it might not be now. _

The conversation progressed into its denouement from there, with Zen putting a stop to the family talk and saying he would try and sleep. She understood just how sensitive it was to talk about the people who were supposed to protect and care for you when they had betrayed that sense of innocence.

She connected her phone to the charger and let it rest there. Exhaustion had already begun to lick at her heels, rendering her body soft and weak. Moving around a bit until she was finally comfortable, she allowed herself to close her eyes and meditate.

Sleep would take her soon, but while it did, she’d try to calm her wild thoughts.

One last mission, _A_ had said. The ending of this mission had yet to be revealed, but there were omens lingering like a dark cloud over her work. It was a ripple-filled pond, with no certainty. There were no direct links that connected the members of the RFA that had yet to be recruited to the religious cult, except for V and herself.

If she was in the process of being recruited, she guessed she’d be hearing from them sometime soon. In the meantime, all she could do was gather information and wait for the antidote to the drug that the scientists working at _Magenta -_ she gathered that was the name of their hideout - were working on. Making sure not to lose V out of sight, she’d also try and track him down. He was awfully good at covering his prints. She knew just how paranoid the 2% could be, but she had never expected the photographer to be so good at it.

Perhaps she’d cross paths with him once she was recruited.

It got her thinking, then, that if the rest of the RFA wasn’t involved, she wouldn’t have to cut ties with them. She’d have to plan her life around the identity _A_ had crafted for her, but she could remain in their life instead of doing what she always did – disappearing without a trace.

Living in Seoul had proved to be quite pleasing. She liked the people, she liked the food, she liked the culture – minus the conservative misogyny she had encountered – and, most importantly, she liked the bond she had begun to form with them. She gathered that it wouldn’t be such a bad group of friends to have if she stayed: an actor, an assistant, a college student, a hacker/agent and a businessman. Her life, at the very least, wouldn’t be dull.

She could allow herself a future with the man she had grown to care for, but it terrified her to think that far.

With her particular skillset, she also assumed it wouldn’t be hard for her to become a journalist. Not even the title would be a hard thing to obtain with her connections. With the obscene amount of money she had in her bank account, it also wouldn’t be hard for her to afford the apartment she was currently staying at. Although, she probably would rent another. Living inside of a dead woman’s apartment with a bomb underneath her feet didn’t sound exactly appealing.

If she set her mind to it, she could live here. She spoke the language fluently, there was not a language barrier holding her back.

After running away, after erasing every trace of her existence and leaving everyone she tricked behind, she was the living personification of a fantasy. She almost fetichised it, being the unattainable object of desire. She was the devil in disguise, an archer. Who could ever leave her?

Knowing her, the real her, that was a luxury only _A_ had ever been able to afford. The RFA members had gotten to know her to some degree, but it was all behind smoke screens and hazy interpretations of an identity she didn’t truly own. He had allowed Zen in more than anyone in such a short span of time.

So, she laid there, a million possible scenarios running through her head as if she were the master of destiny. Thinking that perhaps she could stop running away, leaving nothing but heartbreak in her wake. Perhaps she could one day afford the luxury of a white fence and babes. Cheating the stronghold of her values would prove to be a difficult task. But maybe it was worth finding something worth staying for - maybe she could allow the combination of white and red to lead her in the dark. 

_What options did she have?_ She wondered, feeling sleep take her. _She could leave everything behind or..._

_...she could stay._

* * *


	18. Downtown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Cause we're going downtown, and we feel like running around. Is it really this fun when you're on my mind? Is it really this cool to be in your life? 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_"Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why  
_ _people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being  
_ _brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is,_ _if you don't  
_ _risk anything, you risk even more."  
_ _\- Erica Jong_

* * *

> **_Calypso:_ ** _I look forward to it!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _See you soon. I’m almost  
>  there. :)_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _My heart’s racing…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Okay…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I should clean up the house._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _See you soon._

She rested her head against the car window, the sun gently warming up her skin from the heat gathered there. Her phone remained unlocked in her hand, the messages she had just exchanged with the man who now ruled her mind like a conqueror displayed for all to see. A loose strand of hair ticked her nose and she resisted the urge to sneeze, scrunching her nose and shaking her head.

Jumin’s driver, Mr. Kim, had been respectful and had only spoken to her when needed. It made her miss the way you could vent your problems to taxi drivers in New York even if they were complete strangers and knew nothing about your life beyond the small parentheses you allowed them to glimpse into. She could’ve really used some free therapy from an old man driving her to Central Park.

Playing nervously with the fabric of her mustard pegged pants, she let out a sigh. The entirety of her life had consisted of training for moments such as these, but there was no calming the raging storm inside of her heart. Leaning down slightly in her seat, she checked if the strap of her black suede heels was correctly fastened. She had spent hours emptying her closet and putting everything back in once again, trying to determine what was proper attire to meet the young actor. She wanted to look good for him, to make him feel the same way she felt whenever she saw him.

It was like stumbling through her teenage mind during her first missions, doing her best not to seem awkward as she swayed her hips to the anthems of a culture that promoted rape and rendered consent forgotten in the name of seduction.

The driver spoke, breaking her from her nervous overthinking. “We’re here, miss Ydenn.”

Blinking, she lifted her head from the window and looked around. His profile had indicated where he lived, but she didn’t know the place personally. She silenced her phone and tucked it away in her clutch safely next to _Boxi_ and her wallet. Hesitating, she sat there for a minute. Driver Kim looked at her from the rear-view mirror with a concerned look but said nothing.

It was only when she nodded that he opened his door and walked to her side of the car, opening the door for her. He gifted her a kind look and a smile in an attempt to ease her nervousness.

“Thank you.” She acknowledged, exiting the car. When he closed the door, she turned around and gave herself one last look on the reflection casted by the sun against the glass. “How do I look?”

“You look lovely, miss.” He answered politely, probably unused to such questions coming from the people he drove around town. She chuckled as he led her to the front door.

Standing there, she felt her stomach do somersaults. It had been a good decision to skip breakfast, otherwise she would’ve puked. She couldn’t fathom why she felt so strange, so unsure, so…vulnerable. It was familiar, but she couldn’t place it no matter how hard she tried.

Before she could even register what was happening, Driver Kim pressed the doorbell and the sound of bells felt like the announcement of her execution.

“Yes?” His voice came from the other side of the door before he opened it.

Her whole world stopped as she looked up at him, the scent of buttercream and cigarettes welcoming her home as if she had always belonged there.

“I’ve brought her following Mr. Han’s orders.” Spoke the driver bowing slightly in greeting. “He has told me to bring her back in two hours, so I will be waiting out in front.”

_Just two hours?!_ She fumed internally. Had Jumin been so mad at the fact that she had rejected his advances that he planned to cockblock her entirely? Two hours wasn’t nearly enough for what she wanted to do to him.

Zen’s warm gaze finally positioned itself on her and a soft smile spread on his lips. “Calypso, nice to meet you!”

He reached for her hand and planted a sweet kiss on top it. Her breath was taken away by how gentle he was. Her heart felt heavy, as if a hundred boulders had been placed upon it, and yet it was light enough to take flight and land right in his hands.

With his hand in the small of her back, he led her inside of his home. Before she had a chance to study her environment, she heard him address Driver Kim.

“Oh, driver? You can ignore what Jumin said. We’ll have fun and call you when we’re done. Feel free to leave and return when we call. Goodbye.”

The door closed just before Driver Kim could finish protesting and she couldn’t help the amused grin that spread on her face at his cheekiness. At least, it got rid of the weight of time on their shoulders. They'd have as much time as they wanted. She only hoped he'd be paid the overtime. 

Finally, he turned to her once again. Seeing him through a screen, seeing his pictures, it was nothing compared to the beauty that had now been laid before her eyes. The first time she had seen his images, she had compared him to a nymph, but looking at him now…she could only see a king of the gods. Apollo would be sure to flush in jealousy compared to the man she now had standing before her like a tower. There seemed to be a white halo of energy surrounding him.

“Hey, Calypso. I’m sorry I don’t have much in the house, I don’t usually spend much time here.” He explained, scratching the back of his neck and chuckling nervously.

She found it incredibly endearing. “Is it okay to ignore what Driver Kim said?”

“It’s fine, fine. Don’t worry about it.” He countered, taking a step closer to her. “Wow…you’re so beautiful…”

She looked down in embarrassment. What in the bloody hell was happening to her? It felt as if she were a girl and not a woman. It felt different.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” He repeated as he looked into her eyes with the intensity of a thousand black suns burning into her. The warmth spread through her entire body and concentrated in her chest, lingering there like a soft glow. “I really wanted to see you, I meant it.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she finally gathered enough courage to stare back at him with the same intensity. “I really wanted to see you too. You’re even more handsome in person.”

With his hands on his hips, he laughed, the sound rich and akin to music to her ears. She could get used to the sound.

“Now I don’t want to let you go! You can’t live here, can you?” He joked, his laughter slowly turning into soft chuckles.

“Well, I don’t think Driver Kim would want to wait outside for the rest of our lives, now, would he?” She joked back, the comfort of his presence slowly doing its job on her.

He motioned for her to sit in the couch and he took a seat beside her. It was then, when his scent surrounded her, enclosing her body with a strange sort of familiarity, that she finally felt free. He really did feel like coming home, she noticed. He rested his arm behind her head as he watched her with a smile on his face.

“I can barely believe you’re real.” He effused, his head tilting slightly, his moonlight hair following.

“Are you kidding me? If anyone looks unreal around here, it’s you.” She replied, placing her clutch next to her and ignoring it for the time being. She had an urge to touch him, to actually feel if he was real. It felt as if she was in a trance, far too gone to ever want to return.

Chuckling, he closed his eyes. “I haven’t been this happy to see someone at my house in forever. I have so many things I want to show you.”

Before she could answer, he flushed with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to offer you anything to drink. What would you like?”

He stood up with a little difficulty and she was reminded of his injury. She stood up, as well, following him into the kitchen in case he needed her assistance. When he turned back, he was surprised to find her right in front of him.

“Just water is fine, thank you.” She smiled.

An amused look crossed his face and he shook his head. He reached up to open a cabinet and grabbed a glass. “If you’re bored, we can play games. Or do you want to go shopping for groceries with me later? I’d love to make you dinner and…well…it’s uncomfortable for me to walk so I can’t go by myself.”

“I’d love that. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” She answered as he handed her the glass. Taking a sip, she felt the coolness of the water soothe her throat. She hadn’t noticed how thirsty she was.

_Not just that kind of thirsty._ She joked to herself in an attempt to ease her nervousness.

What was it about him that had her head spinning? He enchanted her, even when he wasn’t around; and now that he was, she was absolutely bewitched. She wasn’t sure if she’d look at the rest of men the same way after seeing him. He made her lose her breath.

“Really? Oh, good!” He exclaimed, a huge derpy grin in his face. “I’m so excited to go grocery shopping together!”

She finished her water and he gently took the glass from her, careful not to touch more skin than necessary. It would only take a step for them to be face to face. “How about we go grab that coffee we’ve been talking about and then go shopping?”

His eyes lit up. “That’s a fantastic idea.”

She had to refrain from laughing as he wobbled all the way to the couch and grabbed his coat. “Alright, let’s get ready to go out.”

Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she followed in his movements, grabbing her purse. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“With you here? I could lift a mountain.” He laughed. “I’m so happy you decided to come see me.”

She bit her lip as she smiled. “You know what? I feel the same way.”

He put a hand to his heart mockingly and huffed. “Don’t say things like that, I’m already injured, do you want my heart to stop?”

Covering her mouth, she laughed. He smiled softly, enjoying the way he could easily bring such joy out of her. “You’re hopeless. How could I ever want that?”

He chuckled, offering her his hand as he opened the front door and waved to Driver Kim. “Alright, princess, would you let Zen the Knight take you on an adventure?”

She stared at his outstretched hand for a second, not missing the way her heart was beating loudly against her ribcage. She wondered if he could hear it.

“Why, yes, good sir, I’d love that.” She joked, taking his hand.

His skin was so soft. Softer than hers, that was for sure. She had been handling weapons for a long time now, and the only reason her hands weren’t rough was because she constantly got manicures. She didn’t do nail polish because it was too much effort and time to maintain, things she couldn’t afford, but she did enjoy the fresh and soothing feeling of taking care of her hands.

He closed his hand around her gently and shut the door once she was outside.

Downtown they went, the weight surrounding her heart feeling less like a python and more like a blanket on a cold, winter day. Feeling less like winter snow and more like winter fire.

They didn’t walk very far, keeping in mind his injury. It wasn’t long until they stumbled upon a secluded and cosy café.

“Is this okay?” He asked, ready to leave if she didn’t like it.

“It’s perfect.” She reassured him as she opened the door for him. He thanked her and walked inside.

The café was mostly empty except for an elderly man sitting beside a fireplace sipping his tea as he read a book. There was a piano in the corner, with a couple cacti resting on its sky-blue surface. From outside, the place had looked small, but it wasn’t. The walls were lined with rows of bookcases, reminding her of _A_ ’s office. The tables and chairs didn’t match, they were all different colours and styles. Despite everything being unmatched, it somehow fit together.

They took a seat and an elderly lady approached their table, greeting them and handing them each a menu. They scanned it for a couple of seconds before she lifted her gaze from the letters and focused on the way he frowned slightly in concentration as he read.

Her heart clenched at the sight. He was more than just a beautiful face. It was the way he had been so willing to be vulnerable, the way he had not been embarrassed to ask for her help. How gentle he had been when touching her and always keeping in mind her comfort. He had not dared touch her beyond simple hand holding. It was the way he looked at her, as if she was the eighth wonder of the world – worthy of being compared to the most beautiful of architectural designs. It was the way he didn’t question her intelligence, the way he dared question others for her. It was how resilient and determined he was. How passionate and romantic he had been to her so far.

He was…himself, and somehow, that was _everything_.

She didn’t know how long she had been staring at him, with her chin resting on her hand and a dopey smile, but she blushed when he lifted his gaze from the menu and smirked at her knowingly.

He chuckled, putting the menu down. “Have you decided what to order? And, no, I’m afraid I’m not on the menu.”

She raised her eyebrow in amusement.

“At least not _here_.” He whispered, winking at her.

Giggling, she directed her attention back to the menu once again. All drinks and dishes were named after a book or a character. She settled for a _Daenerys Targaryen_ , a pomegranate infused tea, and a _Legolas of Mirkwood_ – a honey and cinnamon sandwich with peach slices.

The elderly woman returned and wrote down their order. He had decided to order a _Bilbo Baggins_ – a matcha green tea – and a _Jon Snow_ – a slice of ice cream cake with nitrogen smoke, nontoxic, of course.

It was only when she left that he finally focused his attention back to her. He was giving her a look she couldn’t decipher, no matter how hard she tried. It wasn’t lust nor desire. It was something different, something warmer and sweeter.

“So, aside from what I know already, what else is there to know about Calypso Ydenn?” He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Hm.” She pondered for a moment, looking around the café for inspiration. Her gaze landed on the sky-blue instrument in the corner. “I can play the piano and the guitar. I used to take singing lessons as a child.”

“Really?” His eyes widened in surprise. “I can also play the piano, but I don’t think many people know that.”

“You’ll have to play for me someday.” She suggested, tilting her head to the side. “I mean, there’s a piano _right_ there.”

His eyes lit up and he smiled. “Right now?”

“Our food is not here yet. Why not?” She implied, her hands folding on the table and a devilish smirk on her face.

“Alright, you’ve got a deal. But you’ll have to sing something for me too.” He added, naughtiness etched into his face.

She laughed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to say no to him. “Deal.”

He stood up and approached the elderly woman, asking for permission to use the piano. She grinned, saying something to him she wasn't be able to hear and nodded.

Settling in front of the piano, he winked at her. She melted on the inside.

His voice was beautiful, like a siren’s as he sung a Korean ballad she didn’t know. A threnody for the past and an anthem for a future of their own design. She watched him, the need to trap him in her embrace like a latent omen of the power he would one day hold over her.

She had been so hypnotised by his singing that when he stopped, she was bereft of the dream he had pulled her into.

He beckoned her with his index finger, winking at her and patting the spot next to him. Both the elderly lady and man were watching them with fascination. Perhaps recalling their own past.

“Your turn.” He said, pressing a key. “Give me your best.”

Blushing, she remembered she had not performed for anyone in years. “Alright, but I may be a little rusty. You’ve been warned.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Slowly, her hands caressed the keys gently, feeling the warmth his fingers had left against the cool ivory. Tentatively, she toyed with them for a second, thinking of what to sing for him.

The words flowed naturally out of her in her native tongue, the sound of her voice coming back to her like an old friend: rich, low and smooth. 

_Up late alone with one dim light  
Connected strangers that share nothing  
Except a yearning for another  
Except a yearning to feel something_

_You see it all  
We're exhibitionists_

_You love someone you've never met  
This is such bliss; this is such nonsense  
A person who you only know from a tiny plastic screen  
From a light inside your house  
From a place you've never been_

_You see it all  
We're exhibitionists_

_I've watched you for a long time  
I've followed you for a long time  
You see it all  
I've watched you for a long time  
I’ve wanted you for a long time_

As soon as the song ended, he clapped for her. The elders joined in. 

“That was beautiful, Calypso.” He spoke in her language, the subtle telling of his accent making her want to kiss him until she couldn’t breathe anymore.

There was a light in his eyes that shone brighter than anything she had ever seen.

Part of her knew that once lit, it was never dimming again.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credit for the lyrics go to See It All by Superhumanoids.


	19. I Think We're Alone Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we're alone now, there doesn't seem to be anyone around. I think we're alone now, the beating of our hearts is the only sound. Look at the way we gotta hide what we're doing, cause what would they say if they ever knew?
> 
> If you like the story, please feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“True love comes quietly, without banners  
or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked.”  
\- Erich Segal_

* * *

The sun was slowly being pulled by Apollo’s chariot across the sky by the time they left the café. The elderly couple who owned it had congratulated them after their performance, complimenting the way their voices matched together. There had been a special kind of joy that spread across his chest when they said they made a lovely couple – and it had taken everything inside of himself not to agree with them in front of the amazing woman beside him.

Ever since Calypso had arrived his heart had been beating out of his chest and he was genuinely wondering if she was able to hear it through the fabric of his clothes. He had barely held her hand and he was certain that he would explode into a million tiny, sugar hearts that would rain on her like confetti.

It was a surreal feeling, finally being able to have her touch within his grasp – to know that the words that she wrote in the chatroom were as real as the warm skin he desperately wanted to hold until his last day. The scent of coffee that permanently enveloped her was akin to the most loving of embraces as it surrounded him.

Her smile had filtered through the dark cloud in his head, the clear after the storm. Somehow, with her beside him, he had a feeling it would be easy to get back on his feet. Everything had turned out for the better.

Echo Girl had been willing to halt the entire production for him. She had claimed that he just had to show up at the rehearsal and everything would be okay – he’d get the role and he’d be able to perform beside her. Part of him wasn’t satisfied about it, there was a part of him screaming that it felt like cheating, that there was something off about the whole thing.

But he pushed it to the back of his mind. This was the biggest opportunity he had gotten in his life, and it felt wrong to waste it. He would give it his all, he would prove to everyone that he had it in him to become a good musical actor. He would prove it to his mother and brother, to Jumin, to himself…that he was good enough – that it wasn’t the way he looked, but the talent and skill he had worked so hard on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Calypso’s sweet voice brought his out of his reverie, his mind landing on the reality of her presence as they walked to the grocery store. “You went somewhere.”

Smiling sheepishly, he nodded. “I was just thinking about the role, I want to give it my all.”

“You will.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “You got another chance and I’m certain you’ll make the most of it.”

A blush covered his cheeks and he smiled at her. “Thank you for believing in me, Calypso.”

The sun blocked his view for a second, just as a group of schoolgirls walked past them, pointing and giggling to themselves. He was used to it, but he noticed how tense Calypso had become beside him, how she had suddenly become so quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” She trailed off, probably debating with herself as she tried to pick her words carefully.

“You can tell me anything.” He offered, slowing his steps just enough for his leg to stop hurting.

Her eyes widened when she noticed how fast she had been walking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, you didn’t do it on purpose.” He shook his head as he chuckled at how sweet she was. “So? What’s troubling you, princess?”

Her lips turned upward, giving way to an amused smirk. “So, it’s princess now?”

“You better get used to it.” He teased. “Princess.”

“You’re a bold man, Zen.” She teased right back at him, giving his arm a gentle, playful push.

He knew the action was meant to be friendly, especially where she came from, but he wasn’t entirely used to her touch yet. It drove him wild and he was trying so hard to hold back the thoughts that threatened to consume his mind every time he allowed himself to stare at her body for more than a second.

Forcing his mind out of the ocean of desire that crashed violently within the darkest corners of his mind, he laughed. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

She let out a sigh when a woman stared at them and whispered something to her friend.

“Jaehee’s warnings are starting to make sense. I don’t want to do anything to potentially damage your career.” She confessed, staring at him in the eyes with a fiery determination he had never seen before. “So, let me know if there’s anything I may be doing wrong.”

His heart warmed. She cared so much about him and his career. No one had ever been so careful, so mindful of how their actions affected his life. She cared about him and that much was enough to make him want to wrap his arms around her and never let go. What had he ever done to deserve such an amazing woman? She wasn’t his, but he wanted her to be.

Lovingly, he knew he could never tame her. He had seen first-hand how free she was, how bold and confident, how beautiful and smart. Being with her physically, in the same breathing space, had just displayed those traits for everyone to see and he wanted to yell at the top of his lungs to the entirety of Seoul that she was the only woman he would ever want to hold between his arms. He could never smother the flame that had made her so attractive to him in the first place.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think anyone notices us.” He tried to comfort her, despite knowing that people were aware of them.

She was almost as tall as him and she was an absolutely beautiful woman, an exotic beauty amongst a hive of ubiquity. He had noticed the stares men had directed at her, at the fit shape of her body. It had awakened a beast within him that he had been trying to silence all day, a need to protect and mark. A need to display to the world that she was his and he was hers. She had entered his life only a week ago. He had met her only two hours ago in person, and still…he was certain that he’d be willing to sacrifice anything for her: his career, his body, _and damned be all_ , even his life.

He’d do anything for her. He’d give up anything for her.

Yet she wasn’t his. She didn’t belong to him, despite how badly he wanted to love her, because how could he ever cage her within the constraints and secrecy that his career would undoubtedly bring down upon them? He wanted to proudly be able to kiss her in front of the entire world, to tell her exactly how he felt.

Letting out a mirthless chuckle, she shook her head. “Are you sure?”

He stopped, they were a few steps away from the grocery store, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, waiting for her to push him away if she didn’t feel comfortable with the contact. Instead, her body relaxed, and she closed her eyes as she breathed in.

“Let’s buy what we need and then head back home. You won’t have to worry about that there, okay?” He consoled her, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her clothed skin.

“Alright.” She replied, opening her eyes and gifting him a smile.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight, and he smiled back at her, hoping she wouldn’t be able to read the emotions that overflowed out his ruby eyes as he focused on her.

Searching for her hand with his own, he resumed their walk to the grocery store, the wide glass doors opening before them and granting them the permission to enter.

“I’m just going to grab a trolley.” The moment her hand slipped from his, he was left feeling lost and cold. He hadn’t noticed how comfortable he had gotten until he watched her form retreating to grab a trolley. He shifted his weight onto his good leg and let out a sigh.

She returned with the trolley, with both her hands occupied, and he held back the need to huff. Instead, he joked, hoping he got the intention accross. “How am I supposed to hold your hand now?”

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, it took her a second to realize what he meant, and then she burst out laughing. “Alright, you’re right. Here.”

She grabbed the trolley with one hand, then offered the free one to him. It was his turn to look confused. “Can you push it around with one hand?”

In lieu of an answer, she easily pushed it around for a bit to prove her point. To say he was amazed at the amount of strength she possessed would be an overstatement.

Then again, he had noticed how hard and lean her arms were. There was no doubt that she took care of her body. He wondered if she’d let him take care of it for her one day. _Stop, Zen._

“C’mon.” She said sweetly, intertwining her fingers with his and letting him lead her inside.

They walked around for a bit and he put inside of the trolley everything he would need for the next few days and the ingredients he’d need for the dish he was planning on cooking for her. He wanted to treat her, to pamper her and show her just how capable he was of being a good boyfriend. Besides, it had been a while since he had cooked anything for someone other than himself. It got tiring to cook just for one after a while. She deserved the best.

It wasn’t long until they ended up at the produce aisle. She asked him what he needed, and they decided to split to get the ingredients.

He returned to the trolley before she did, and he scanned the entire area for her with his eyes. It wasn’t hard to spot her; he could’ve done it in the most crowded of stadiums. In a lake of people, he was certain she’d be able to shine through.

Walking to her, he realized she was inspecting a cucumber. His treacherous mind instantly wished for things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Her hands wrapped around the girth of the vegetable gave his imagination plenty of material to torture him with later. “I don’t think we need one of those, princess.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn we needed one.” She spoke back, focusing her attention back to him as she repressed a smile by biting her lip.

He narrowed his eyes and shot her a playful smile. “You can take it if you _really_ need it.”

“Well…I’ve got _you_ , I guess you’re right.” She hummed, putting it back and turning back to him.

Choking, he covered his mouth with his hand and looked away in embarrassment. He was sure he was as red as the blood that had rushed to his groin when he understood the meaning behind her words. _Don't, don't, stop, stop, Zen, no._

As they kept on shopping, he noticed that they preferred the same products. It seemed as if she knew exactly what he wanted, and he loved every second of it. In his mind, it only helped further his belief that they were meant to meet – that his dream had been an omen of good things to come, of love to come.

He came up behind her as she decided on what brand of tea to buy for him. “The fact that we have the same tastes means that it’ll be easy when we move in together.”

She laughed nervously, grabbing the brand he usually bought and handing it to him. “Oh, shush.”

While they finished grabbing the rest of the items on his list, Zen realized how easy it was to be this way with her. How easy and natural it had been to simply enter the store holding hands and pick the same brands. His heart had whispered to him that it could always be this way, afternoons of coffee and piano music, of grocery shopping and walking. It had been too easy to settle into the routine of every couple out there.

He choked on the intensity of his feelings as he stared at her back while she picked one last item, presumably for her – a packet of _Oreos_. Raising an eyebrow questioningly, he gestured to them.

“Sorry, I ate the last one and I needed to replace it.” She explained as she put it in the trolley, and they walked to the cash register together, one of her hands pushing the cart and the other one holding his own. “We can share if you want.”

He gave her a funny look then looked down at his stomach, trying to convey his message. Once she got it, she laughed then reciprocated, signalling at her equally chiselled abdominal. Blushing, he looked away. _No, no, no. Stop it._

“These are special snacks.” She added as they waited in line. "Very special."

“As special as you?” He leaned in a little. “I don’t think so.”

It was her turn to turn beet reed, but instead of turning away, she boldly leaned in closer. “Why don’t you find out?”

Closing his eyes to repress the beast inside of him, he smirked at her and focused his attention elsewhere. In every supermarket, there was always an assortment of sweets beside the checkout counters in case anyone felt like impulsively buying something – impulse goods, known for their unplanned purchases. He normally ignored the shelves, but as he looked for something to distract himself with, his gaze landed on a pocky box.

A normally forbidden idea came into his mind and he grabbed it, making sure she noticed. It couldn't do anyone any harm.

“What’s that?” She asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“You don’t know what they are?” He asked, passing the small box to her. “Pocky.”

She stared at it for a second, recalling where she’d seen them, until it clicked, and a knowing smile spread on her lips. “Are you trying to get me to kiss you, handsome?”

“Maybe.” He confessed as she returned the box to him.

She shook her head as she chuckled. “I’ve never had them.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Really? My brother used to sneak these in the house for me on special occasions.”

Slowly, sadness creeped up on him like the last rays of the sun escaping the dark shadow of night. He smiled sadly to himself and stared at the small box – remembering how big the red boxes used to look on his hands when he was a child. Now, his hands were bigger, rougher. The passing of time marked by the juxtaposition of his memories and his present.

Her hand slowly coming to rest of top of his brought him comfort and the sadness dissipated like fog. 

On their way back to his home, he had insisted on trying to carry as many bags as he could, but she had declined, saying she was in better shape to carry them. It had taken some convincing, but he gave in, watching the muscles in her arms become taut under the weight.

He turned to talk to her, to ask her what she wanted to eat in case she didn't like what he was planning on, but was interrupted by the sound of a camera flashing. He directed his attention to the source and forced a calm expression on his face.

“Zen! Is that your girlfriend?” A paparazzi yelled.

“How long have you been dating?” Another asked.

“Miss, what’s your name?”

“Where are you from?”

“Zen!”

“There’s rumour about you working with Echo Girl!”

“Is it true?”

“When will it be confirmed?”

They were very close to his home, they just had to hurry their pace, even if it pained him. He wasn't that famous, how had they recognized him? Had Echo Girl said something? Had the information of his participation been leaked to the media?

Calypso was visibly tense as she looked down, trying to conceal her face from them. Guilt ate away at him as he asked them to leave them alone as politely as he could. He didn’t want to cause a scene, and he didn't want them to question her further, so he gave them the only answer that would appease them and that would have them get off her back.

“She’s a fellow RFA Member.” He had uttered between gritted teeth as he faked a smile. Normally, it didn’t bother him, but he could feel her discomfort and he hated to be the source of it. "She came to visit and help me."

It wasn’t long before they reached his front door and he opened it as fast as he could, pushing her in with a little bit more strength than necessary, mentally cursing himself for it.

“Thank you for your time.” Zen stated, shutting the door in their faces, hoping he wasn’t too rude to them.

He turned around to apologize to Calypso for pushing her but found himself on the floor instead, having crashed into her. Her warm body shook underneath him as she wrapped her arms around him. He groaned in pain and pushed himself up with his elbows to avoid crushing her with his body, his hair shielding them from the rest of the world. Looking down at her in concern, he was surprised to find her happy instead of angry.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry for pushing you.” He whispered, watching her laugh in confusion.

“I’m sorry!” She exclaimed between laughs. “But how in the _bloody hell_ were you so polite? In my country, they would’ve gotten the finger and a _fuck off_!”

Slowly, the meaning of her words dawned on him and laughed along with her. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want them to harass you any longer.”

“You’re far too nice for your own good.” She chuckled as her laughter died down and her arms gently disentangled themselves from him. "Nicer than I ever will be."

He chuckled along, rolling on the floor next to her, the pain spreading. “You know what? You _may_ be right.”

Turning her head to look at him, she was about to retort, but she frowned when she noticed the grimace on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little sore.” He confessed, motioning to his leg with his hand.

She stood up, and offered her hand to him, he took it and she pulled him up with a surprising amount of strength. She was strong, no doubt.

They were face to face, just inches apart, he could've leaned in and kissed her. He wanted to kiss her so, so bad.

“I should make dinner.” He said, taking a step back and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Would you like to help me?”

“Absolutely.” She giggled, following him into the kitchen.

* * *


	20. Do I Wanna Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you'd stay. Darling, we both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Falling for him would be like cliff diving. It would be either the most  
exhilarating thing that ever happened to me or the stupidest mistake I’d ever make.”  
\- Hussein Nishah_

* * *

She could hear it in the silence, the way her blood flowed all the way to her heart and drowned her with feelings she dared not name, her heartbeat like a military drum signalling the end of reality as she had known it for the past five years.

Her mind was flooded with him. It sounded utterly foolish, but when she thought about it, she had the urge to sit in the shower, cry and scrub at her skin until she was red raw – but there was no extracting him. He’d crawled his way into her bones and bled into her every pore. He was in her blood now, in her blue veins. She couldn’t get him out and she no longer wanted to.

The smart thing would’ve been to put an end to it as soon as it started, to have kept it friendly, but he swept into her life like wildfire, a sudden flame, blazing and streaming into her stone-cold heart. She worried that she’d have to drown out that fire, that she would have to send the good to Davy Jones' locker, leaving nothing to show for it but the barren wasteland. 

Zen sat next to her on the settee, the pain leaving his leg slowly after taking a few painkillers. The were both staring at the conversation she had just had with the heir to C&R International – the way he had been offended at the fact that Zen had consented to the idol’s help but not his. She had calmed the waters as best as she had been able to. Yoosung had attempted to help her, but there had been no putting to sleep Jumin’s frustration.

A sigh escaped his lips and she locked her phone, putting it back in her clutch. “Jumin, that jerk…he’s provoking me again.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” She encouraged, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

He turned his head to look at her. “He’s not wrong that I never discriminated against it…but it still pisses me off. I never want to help him. I ended up straining myself during practice because of what he said two days ago…it’s my fault for falling into his trap, but shouldn’t he feel at least a bit guilty?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he spoke again, letting out a mirthless laugh. “I hate that he always messes with me with cats.”

“I think he wanted to help in his own way, however strange it is. Perhaps he doesn’t mean any harm.” She tried, trying to understand the heir’s actions.

“He just…annoys me for some reason.” He added, closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the back of the settee. “To be honest…I admit that it wasn’t like me to accept Echo Girl’s suggestion.”

“How so?” She asked, mimicking his actions.

“I’m always wary of rich or elite people offering me kindness. This is only between me and you but…” He bit his lip and gave her a sideways glance. “It’s because my brother was kind of like that.”

“What was your brother like?” She asked, although she had a pretty good idea, based on her interactions with Jumin.

He sighed again. “My brother is a so-called elite. He always emphasized that I have to make compromises in the world. Jumin’s not like him but…he treats me in a similar way. That’s why I don’t like him.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“When we were little, we were so close…but now I don’t even talk to him.” He concluded, closing his eyes.

She could feel his pain, feel the way his heart called out to his brother. There was nothing she could do to help, but she could offer him a safe space to vent.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked quietly.

He considered it for a moment, humming, then opened his eyes. “I’ll tell you about my brother later, deal? I don’t want to spoil our night. For now, you’re staying for dinner, right?”

“Absolutely.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

There was a hopeful and restrained glint in his gaze as he uttered his next words. “Maybe…you can even stay the night.”

She raised an eyebrow, her mind’s gears already turning and her body reacting to him being so close to her. It was no secret that she desired him greatly, that she wanted to lure him into her body and keep him trapped there. To know what it felt like to be as close as possible to him. She had a feeling that once she got a taste of him, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.

Without the right words to express how much she wanted that, she settled for a simple answer, hoping her eyes conveyed how much she wanted the same thing as him. “Okay.”

“That’s okay, right? Don’t’ worry, I swear I won’t do anything weird to you. It’s just that it’s getting dark and I’ll get worried. I’d rather you sleep here and leave tomorrow morning. And…I want you to stay longer.” He laughed softly. “I’m so excited right now.”

“Do you think Driver Kim is still around?” She questioned playfully, her shoulders shaking as she giggled.

He laughed, turning to look at her. “Hopefully he forgot about us.”

The settee groaned as he stood up and offered his hand to her. “Would you like to help me cook?”

“I don’t know what we’re cooking, but yes.” She accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up. “Let’s go.”

She watched him as he pulled out all the ingredients, arranging them beautifully on the kitchen counter. Usually, she was good at cooking, but Korean food wasn’t exactly her specialty and, based on the ingredients he had picked out, she had a feeling it wasn’t her usual go-to dinner date dish.

Zen chuckled as soon as he noticed the scared look on her face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll do most of the heavy lifting.”

Opening a drawer, he pulled out a kitchen knife and handed it to her. She took it from him carefully and pointed it at him. “You know I could stab you with this, right?”

With his hands on his hips, he laughed. “I’m sure you can. Do you really want to, though?”

“I suppose you’re right.” She replied, chuckling along as he handed her a board.

“Cut these for me, please.” He instructed as he handed her ginger, garlic, onion and a few apples.

While she cut the ingredients, he carefully prepared the marinade for the pork.

“Here.” She spoke, handing him the perfectly cut ingredients.

“Well, you’re better than me at cutting, that’s for sure.” He pointed out, putting everything into a food processor and turning it on.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. He didn’t know just how good she was with knives. Perhaps it was for the better.

They let the meat marinate for a while and used that time to separate the rice cakes he had bought, soaking them in warm water. It was only after the meat was ready that he pulled out a wok from a cabinet and placed it on the stove, turning the heat on high.

Carefully, she added all the ingredients together and let him do the rest.

She leaned against the counter, watching him cook with fascination. There was a homely beauty to their interactions as they cooked. It felt normal, like this was where she belonged, next to him, doing this every night. Warmth spread on her chest and travelled all the way to her cheeks, surely making her realize just how far in deep she was now. The fucked-up part was that she didn’t want to come back out. It would surely be the death of her, how easily she had given up into her heart’s desires.

“You okay?” He asked, turning to look at her as he lowered the heat to medium and stirred the food. 

“You’re a beautiful man, both inside and out, did you know that?” She whispered, watching the way his eyes lit up.

“You’re just as beautiful.” He countered, turning back to the food and letting out a triumphant sound once it was done.

Reaching up, he pulled out two plates and served the food along with some steamed rice. He handed her a plate and pulled her chair out for her with his free hand. It was beautiful how homely it all felt, it made her realize just how much she had missed out on all this time. How there was a yearning for the things she had always labelled as coming home. It was all she ever wanted, _someone_ to call home.

“Oh, my, this is amazing!” She exclaimed after swallowing the first bite.

He grinned with satisfaction. “Right? I’m so happy you liked it.”

They spent their dinner talking about simple things, getting to know each other’s quirks. She learned his favourite colour was red, that he had been trying to quit smoking for a while, and that he loved cold beer and lamb kebab. He also told her that once this whole thing was over, that he’d love to take her to a theatre play and give her a bouquet of flowers. He confessed that he had unknowingly been featured in the cover of Vogue once and that a video game company was making a character based on him. Luciel always pranked him on his birthday and Jumin had once gifted him a hairball of Elizabeth the 3rd. He was terrible with technology.

She had reciprocated, telling him her favourite colour was white. She didn’t smoke anymore, but she had in the past. She loved cold beer on a sunny day. With his description of an ideal date, she had told him of her version, and he had agreed that they’d also have to do that. Embellishing the truth, just a little bit, she told him how she’d been in various castles because her parents used to be very rich. She also told him about that one island in Greece with cherry pies, a red door and the smell of citrus in the air.

* * *

* * *

After dinner, she disappeared to his bedroom for a bit, asking him if she could use his shower. He had blushed and agreed. She had very, _very_ naughty intentions in mind, and she didn’t want to smell like sweat when it came down to it. It was only after her shower, with the scent of buttercream of him all over her, and that she was drying herself off with his towel – that she noticed his exchange with Luciel.

Part of her had wanted to check his apartment for anything strange, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her mission was entirely blocked out of her mind, and she decided that she deserved a little selfishness.

She opened the door to his bedroom, signalling her arrival, and he smiled at her. “Oh, you came out.”

He told her about the… _mummy_ Luciel wanted to invite and she agreed it was a good idea, despite how bizarre it was.

“It’s getting late, right?” He trailed off regretfully. “Do you want to stay longer?”

“Only if that’s what you want.” She replied, coming closer to him.

His gaze darkened, but it was gone as soon as it came. She loved how caring he was, but she was at the end of her patience here. She wanted him to absolutely fuck her sore.

“Weren’t you surprised that I live in a half-underground apartment?” He asked suddenly, his gaze focused on the roof with a tint of nostalgia. “I like this place. I’ve lived here since high school. I was barely able to pay the security deposit with the money I saved up. The rent is cheap…but what I like best about this house is…”

He offered her his hand. “Come, I’ll show you.”

Leading her through a set of stairs, he opened a door.

The view was absolutely breathtaking, there was no lie in his words. “You didn’t expect there to be a roof like this, did you?”

He sat down and patted the spot next to him. She dared not speak lest she break the spell they were both under.

“I’m sorry for making you go so late. I’m so happy that you came to see me, I really mean it. I’d love to make you stay here with me if I could.” He added at the end, wishfully.

“I want to stay here too.” She whispered, trying to hold back the lust in her voice.

“I’m really happy to hear that.” He commented absentmindedly. “Do you think…I don’t deserve to do rehearsals with my ankle like this?”

There was a desperate need for validation concealed within his words, an insecurity and fear he had been trying to hold back all day. “I trust your decision, handsome.”

“I bragged about being able to do rehearsals again, but I don’t feel completely good about it. I used to swear to myself never to depend on the power of money.”

As an agent, she understood, but she asked anyway. “Why?”

“It’s a long story, do you want to listen?”

She’d listen to him read a radio manual and she’d be the happiest woman in the world. “I do.”

He sighed and looked up at the night sky. “I mentioned my brother earlier, but I didn’t go too much into it. We used to be close when we were young. Now that I think about it, I think it was because there was a big age gap between us. We’re 10 years apart.”

She nodded, signalling him she was listening.

“I guess he thought I was cute. When I was little, I never knew I was good looking. My parents always told me I looked ugly.”

Her heart sank at the revelation. How could they ever do that? It had destroyed his self-esteem, it now made sense why he was such a narcissist. He was covering those insecurities up. 

“They’re both really conservative teachers. They told me that on purpose thinking that I’d be offered a lot of temptations because of the way I looked. But…when I was little, their words hurt me. My brother, thankfully, always told me the truth. He told that that getting attention wasn’t bad, that it was something to be proud of.”

She understood, then, how deep the betrayal went. “You must’ve really liked him.”

“Yeah, I did...” He whispered. “I thought he knew me more than my parents. It’s foolish now that I think about it. He was so much older than me, there was no way he could’ve understood me properly.”

Her hand itched to reach for his, but she held back.

“We started growing apart in middle school when I naturally found out that I’m happy when I sing…I thought he’d support me, but I was wrong. He was an A student; I was a troublemaker. That’s how my parents separated us, treating us as if we belonged to two completely different worlds.”

Anger overtook her and she mentally cursed them with all she had.

“At one point, he started talking like them. I felt betrayed, I thought that he’d recognize what kind of person I am.”

“Why do you think he changed so suddenly?” She asked, scooting closer to him.

“He started changing after majoring in law. He started to think money and opportunities were the best.” Zen let out a heart-breaking, trembling sigh. “And called me stupid. I could stand my parents not letting me do anything, but I couldn’t stand him belittling me. So, I ran away, wandered around and came here – moving from one small theatre company to another…until I met Rika.”

The name made her tense, knowing what she knew, but she let him continue. “It must’ve been so difficult for you.”

“Yeah, I did all kinds of part time jobs…I even threatened kids to take their lunch money. I did bad things, but I had to put food on my plate somehow.”

_I’m certain I’ve done worse for worse reasons, handsome. You’re better than I ever will be._

“A teenager runaway is helpless. But after high school, it wasn’t so bad being an actor. Rika was a turning point in my life, she told me that she knew a businessman who could help.”

“Jumin?” She guessed.

“Yeah. Since her boyfriend V’s childhood friend was Jumin…but…I didn’t want to be swayed by money, so I refused. What I hated more was that his attitude was _just_ like my brother’s. He reminded me of him.”

“So that’s why you don’t like him?” She implied, feeling him shiver beside her.

“…yeah. I wanted to prove that I could do well without money or power. So…that why it’s not like me…to decide to continue with the rehearsals.”

He chuckled, turning his attention back to her and smiling at her lovingly. “I can’t believe I’ve told you this much about me. It’s strange…I feel as if I’ve known you for a long time.”

She shrugged playfully.

“Why do you think that is? You’re…strange.” He whispered, looking into her eyes with something she couldn’t place. “Can I…hold your hand?”

She smiled back, offering it to him, knowing her words would be like a stab to her own bleeding heart. “Hold it tight and never let go.”

His eyes widened and he pulled away as if he’d been burnt. Confused, she frowned.

“Sorry, I can’t. It’s going to be trouble if you stay the night.” He justified, looking away, trying to hide the blush in his pale cheeks.

Taken aback, she asked. “What do you mean?”

“If you can’t guess, then you don’t need to know. I’m a guy…just holding your hand makes me imagine what will happen in the end.” He explained, turning back to her. “You should go home before it’s too late.”

He stood up and she followed. She could see how bad he wanted her to stay, how badly he was trying to hold back. She wanted him to give in. _Please, give in._

Before he could open the door, she spoke. “Zen, I want it too.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of your kindness…” He trailed off; his back turned to her.

She walked to him slowly, her hand outstretched until it came into contact with his shoulder. Gently, she forced him to look at her, cupping his face with her hands.

“I know you won’t. Zen…I don’t know if you feel the same way I do…but if you do…kiss me.” She begged, knowing she was walking the wire, knowing she’d fall.

“Calypso, I…” He went silent as he stared down at her crimson lips.

Before he could change his mind, she leaned in…

…and kissed him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned the beautiful artwork for this chapter to my lovely friend MisuCastLove. 
> 
> Check out her social links if you're interested in her amazing art:
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CassMarisa  
> Instagram: https://instagram.com/misucastlove


	21. Fallingforyou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you see me? I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you. And don't you need me? I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you. On this night, and in this light, I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_**WARNING: explicit sexual content ahead** _

* * *

_“To have her here in bed with me, breathing  
on me, her hair in my mouth – I count  
that something of a miracle.”  
\- Henry Miller_

* * *

Surprisingly, it was the slightest brush of their lips that set her ablaze, that drove her desire to the farthest reaches of the beach and far beyond into the swimming sea of stars hanging above them like a veil. She’d forever be a prisoner to this decision. He had restrained himself at first, had remained still as his hands ached to grip her hips.

It wasn’t until she wrapped her arms around his neck that he gave in, tilting his head to the side and deepening the kiss, his arms surrounding her torso as he pulled her in impossibly closer. Slowly, his hand trailed a path all the way up to the back of her neck, granting him better control of the kiss.

He broke it, leaning his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes with a wild need for confirmation, the lust in his ruby eyes overflowing like water from a bathtub. “Are you sure you want this?”

She breathed out. “Do you?”

“Only if you want to.” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear lovingly, the hand at her hip rubbing soothing circles at the now exposed skin there.

She stood on her tippy toes, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered. “Then take me to your bedroom and make love to me.”

No further explanation needed, he groaned and kissed her again – this time with the freedom and consent to explore each other to their heart’s content. They both knew they were taking a chance, the romance that had been rising between them could lead to destruction, to a nomadic sort of longing for the infinite unrealized possibilities of love between them.

Stumbling into the bedroom, she broke the kiss. “Lights on or off?”

“I want to see you.” He gasped as he shrugged of his coat and reached behind, tugging his shirt over his head. Or, at least, tried to. The fabric caught on his jaw.

She giggled, approaching him and tugging the fabric gently over his head. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, planting a sweet kiss on her lips and looking at her fully clothed form. “Do you need any help with that?”

Smirking seductively, she shook her head. “Not yet.”

He lifted an eyebrow questioningly, but she ignored him as her attention finally came into contact with the washboard perfection of his abdomen. His body was a work of art, ripped with rope after rope of strength. The muscles that tapered from his waistline made her lick her lips. There was a final sprinkling of white hair that trailed below his navel, leading straight to a long, thick erection. So, he really was an albino. 

She dragged him further into the bedroom and tumbled him onto the bed. He pulled her down with him, letting her weight rest on top of him, pinning him down deliciously. Spreading her legs, she welcomed him close.

“Now, you’re supposed to avoid strenuous physical activity, correct?” She asked, pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it into the heap of clothes on the floor.

Frowning, he nodded. “Yes, but…”

“ _Sh_ …I’ll do the work for both of us. Lay back and enjoy.” She whispered, leaning down above him, her face hovering over his as she stared into his eyes, her hair shielding them from the rest of the world – as if they were the only beings left in a collapsing universe. “You’ll get to be on top next time.”

His face glowed red at her implication. She rode his clothed body, holding him in place by locking her strong legs around him. The scent of coffee on her skin descended upon him as if intent to drown him. He wanted nothing more but to let it consume him. To let _her_ consume him.

Her hands were everywhere, and his clothes disappeared without him noticing, too focused on the teasing ministrations of her fingers down his entire body.

Zen pulled her down and captured her lips with his own. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pressing herself against him, frustrated at the fabric of her pants separating them. There was nowhere where she would rather be than trapped in his embrace. She nipped at his lower lip and gave his hair a tug, freeing it from the seemingly permanent ponytail he donned and urged him on. He shuddered, his hips bucking softly against her, and moaned deep in his throat.

She crawled off him and held back the chuckle that threatened to escape her as he propped himself up with his elbows to watch her as she undressed. To say that the view of his naked body, of the personification of his desire looking back at her proud, hard and weeping with need was beautiful would be the biggest of understatements. Perhaps it was the rush, perhaps she had always been destined to end up here trapped in his arms, and she didn’t want to be selfish, _but_ _she wanted it all_.

Smiling under his gaze, she began to run her hands up and down her body seductively, teasing him by delaying what he wanted from her. His eyes traced her body hungrily, his gaze full of such intensity that she could’ve mistaken it for physical touch over her body – for breaking waves and breaking thunder. She couldn’t believe the shaking of her fingers as she unclasped her brassiere, trembling with anticipation and arousal. He focused on her breasts, and she almost felt self-conscious, despite how truly confident she was about her body.

He sat up, bringing her closer to him until she had to crane her neck down to look at him in the eyes. His fingers brushed against her cheekbone lightly, his thumb ghosting over her bottom lip. She smirked as she parted her lips and wrapped them around his intrusive finger. He closed his eyes, groaning as she sucked on the digit. She let go of him, and his fingers trailed down across her collarbone and down to the valley between her breasts – the ink beneath the skin of her tattoo displaying the shape of it to him in all its glory.

“ _The Winged Victory of Samothrace._ ” He whispered, recognizing the figure. “It’s beautiful.”

Before she had a chance to answer, he tweaked her nipple between his wet thumb and forefinger, making her gasp and lean into his touch, needing him everywhere at once.

“Zen…” She moaned, digging her nails into his shoulders as she held on for support.

With her palm on his chest, she pushed him back down gently. He watched intently as she removed what was left of her clothes, baring herself to him. Letting out a shuddering breath, his self-control was running low. He was trying to hold back the beast inside of him – the one that screamed at him to flip them over, so he was on top and make her feel as wild as he did. To make her scream his name so loud the entire neighbourhood knew who he was. To feast on her with her legs closed around his head. 

She crawled on top of him, straddling his waist, and let him grab at her nape, pulling her down into a kiss. Her lips were no longer crimson, he had drunk in the entire colour out of them. His tongue pushed into her mouth, needy, before she could even breathe.

As his hand travelled from her nape down her back, he could feel her spine moving as she took pleasure from him by teasingly rubbing herself against him, never quite giving him what he wanted. He kept going, all the way to her derrière.

“To think you were planning on sending me back.” She laughed into the kiss.

He licked his lips with a twinkle in his eyes, his hands moving to his cock, but before he could get far, her fingers closed around his. Their gazes locked as she started moving him at her own pleasure, torturing him at a painfully slow speed.

“Did you really think I was going to let you send me back without letting you fuck me first?” She asked. He could only manage to groan a reply.

“Calypso…” He begged. His whole chest tingled, he wanted no more than to push her hand away and replace it with her.

But he let her lead him, up and down, however slowly she desired to, because the look in her eyes kept him settled. Her brown gaze was filled with such raw lust and emotion that he could just burn in it. She settled herself askew his thighs, pushing her fingertips in between the lips of her cunt, slowly working up and down between the folds. They were pink and soft, and they spread easily for her hand as she started circling her nub, then in, then around her nub again, and then further, all the way into herself.

Zen prodded himself up to sit on his elbows as he watched her finger herself. He had never been with a woman like her. He had wanted her, and he, like a fool, had almost deprived himself of the sight he now had before him. He could barely recognize every woman he had ever been with as he felt his body react to the divinity of her. She was already dripping wet, and it made him wonder, his eyes slipping to her flushed face, if she too had been touching herself to the image of him. 

The thought sent shivers down his back, and the muscles around his cock pulled, making it sway slightly in the air. Slowly, he reached for her hand, gently pushing it away and replacing it with his own. His fingers coating themselves in her arousal.

He had wound himself through the fabric of her being to the point she didn’t know where she began anymore. Her every waking thought was of him and his smile, his beautiful and caring personality and how, somehow, he made her dream of lives she could never have.

Instead, she gasped at the sensation of his touch, his dextrous fingers running along her soaked slit, her back arching against him as whispers of his name spilled from her lips.

“That’s enough.” She finally said, removing his fingers from her warm cunt and grabbing his cock. She positioned herself above him, and then slowly began pushing him inside of her.

Closing tightly around him, she moaned as her muscles massaged his member. She was so warm, and so was the fire burning inside of him. They felt awake, aware, oh, so very _alive_. His hands grabbed at the sheet below him, and he took in a deep breath as she worked her way down until he was fully inside of her. He wanted to push back against her, grab her by the waist and fuck her until she came along with him.

But he watched her face; her eyes closed in bliss, her freckled cheeks glowing, her thoroughly kissed lips parted in a moan – and he waited for her to adjust, to get used to his size.

“Fuck…” Calypso whispered, “…you feel so good.”

Rocking back and forth on him, he could’ve sworn she was transporting them both to a Nirvana where there was no coming back from. Once they had both gotten a taste of each other, they would crave their skin like a dying man wished for water in the desert - in the oasis of her cunt wrapped around him.

“Because I need you.” He stated as he reached out and placed one hand on her waist, his fingers pushing into her tan skin for a steady hold.

She reached down and pushed her hands to his chest. She crawled until she had one on his shoulder, the other in his loose white locks, and she held him in place as she jerked her hips forward.

Zen shivered and looked up at her. Though he could no longer see her cunt, he could feel it; tight and warm, wet around him. With every move she made, he felt himself being drawn towards the edge. His sight was slightly blinded by her brown locks sliding around him, tickling his nose and sticking to his sweaty cheeks. But in between the strands, he could see her face, all flushed and smiling, her eyes closed in pleasure.

 _I want you._ She thought as he pushed himself upwards, making her follow him in a gasp as he seated himself. _I want you_. She thought as he wrapped his arms around her, her legs around his waist as he pushed back up against her movement. _I want you so much more than you could ever understand. I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted._

He buried his nose in her neck as they found a rhythm together, her pressing down against him, and him pushing back up. Again, and again, and again.

She pushed her nose down to his neck as she licked her way up to his ear, bit the lobe and then whispered. “Make me yours.”

Desperately, he reached between them, his fingers finding her nub and rubbing her so she’d come first. Her moans against his ear drove him mad, he wanted her to find her release before he did. He wanted to make her feel good, to love her raw until she begged him to stop.

It did its work and she came with a cry and her head thrown back, giving him the opportunity to kiss the skin of her neck. He was pulsating inside of her, so close to his peak. The harder she grinded on him to chase the last remnants of her release, the more blood seemed to fill his cock.

As she lowered her head to trap his lips into a kiss, claiming him, his cock throbbed, and he moaned with the image of her losing herself to him. His eyes shut, but it still burned on the back of his eyelids.

He thrust into her once, twice and then, exploded with the force of an erupting volcano, shuddering and groaning, seeing her and only her with the intensity of his climax.

Nothing would ever compare to what he had just felt, buried deep inside of her. So lost and gone that he had considered never coming back.

Calypso moaned around him, and she slowed down her riding until he had fully orgasmed and filled her with his release. Only then, did she pause, letting him fall back into the bed, his red face strained and his lips trembling as he breathed in deeply.

Finally, she lifted herself off him, and he gasped for air as she dropped down to lie next to him. For a moment, they were just side by side, breathing in as much oxygen as they could, the scent of sex in the air. Then, as it felt natural to them, they twisted so that they were facing each other on their sides, her head pillowed against his upper arm; their legs tangled together and his free arm slung over her waist as if to anchor her to him, while her hands curled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

“Wow…” He panted, leaning his forehead against hers. “Just…wow.”

She laughed to his neck and planted a kiss by his collarbone. “It really was amazing.”

Nuzzling her closer to him, he breathed her in. “Maybe you should stay the night.”

Thoughts of her mission rushed back into her mind, telling her that what she had just done had been a mistake and that if she stayed any longer, she’d do something even more stupid. At this point, she didn’t know what it could truly be, but she couldn’t risk finding out.

“Now you want me to stay?” She chuckled, closing her eyes and trying to fight the guilt that overcame her. “I’d love to, but I think Jaehee would have my head. I can always come next time.”

He chuckled along with her, shaking his head. “Perhaps you’re right. Thankfully, the driver is still waiting outside.”

 _Bloody hell, he looks so beautiful with his hair down._ She mused as she watched him. _What I’d give to wake up to this sight every morning._

“Thankfully…” She echoed ruefully. There would be consequences to this, to dancing with the devil and thinking she’d come out victorious.

“I can’t believe we did this…we just met today.” He murmured. “I really don’t want you to think I’m this sort of man.”

“I know you’re not.” She consoled, kissing him. “Do you regret it?”

His eyes widened in shock and he gasped out. “Never! How could you say that?”

“I don’t either. We’re both adults, Zen. I’m glad we did this.” She explained. "Besides, it was _really, really_ good."

He rolled them over and kissed her until he had to come up for breath. Staring down at her, he just knew he had fallen for her. It had taken a week for him to fall in love with this amazing, beautiful and intelligent woman. It had taken him a few hours to devise a life with her.

Time flew by after that, with them fighting the inevitable way time's arrow moved forward. He wanted her to stay forever, to love her until his last dying breath because how could he not fall for the woman who had just driven him to the brink of madness and pleasure?

Unbeknownst to him, she felt the same way about him.

* * *


	22. Cherry Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way she shows me I'm hers and she's mine, open hand or closed fist would be fine. Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“But even when I stop crying, even when we fall asleep  
and I’m nestled in his arms, this will leave another scar. No one  
will see it. No one will know. But it will be there. And eventually all of  
the scars will have scars, and that’s all I’ll be – one big scar of love gone wrong.”  
\- Amanda Grace_

* * *

The droplets hit the window one by one, the constant rhythm of their fall against the glass as an echo of the storm raging inside of him. The wind howled and hissed, mercilessly shaking the hinges of a decorated, golden, baroque window. He ran his fingers through the silk sheets of the bed he laid on, letting out a shuddering breath and hoping it wasn’t loud enough to wake the monsters hiding inside of his bedroom’s walls.

He couldn’t hear nor see them, but he knew they were listening – always listening. Eyes all around him, watching his every move, his chest falling and rising with every breath he took. Would they notice if he stopped breathing altogether? If he just allowed himself to disappear into the deep void of nothingness that ate away at his mind in order to push back the guilt?

Time went through him as if he were paper thin. The sun was no longer shining, instead it was replaced by overconsuming darkness. He missed the sun. The way it warmed his face and caressed his body with the comfort he had been lacking as of lately. He yearned for the embrace of another, for the honesty and trust that walked hand in hand with love.

Oh, but his love was too far gone into darkness. His only choice had been to follow her into whichever path she chose. He’d burn, drown and crash with her if needed, he’d hold her as the world crumbled around them – even if it had been by her own hand. She’d fallen apart and he’d chased her to the end, woken up the devil inside she had promised to leave behind.

Too gone in the idea of a utopia she would never be able to create as long as she remained in the corruptive chaos of her vision. Power was value neutral; it was how you decided to utilize it that defined its user’s nature. Good or evil, it made no difference. Two sides of the same coin, separated by shades of a spectrum as wide as the domain of dead stars above them, as the dark matter that expanded the universe, distancing them all from the possibilities of a shared consciousness.

With her he had lived, with her he’d fall down. His wings melted through his skin, charred away the skin and seeped into his bones, branding her name into the very core of his being. It was obsessive, it was dangerous, it was madness, but it was theirs. It was a beautiful mess, the words that cut through him like a blade and the healing of her presence when she faked a smile.

Grass underneath his naked feet, the scent of flowers lingering in the skin of the one woman who had promised to love him till death did them part. The spring underneath her tongue, and a summer light in her eyes. The woman who lost her freedom to be with him – that loved him like he had never loved himself, that had taken care of him like he had never taken care of himself.

There was so much he had never given to her, so many kisses he had missed – that he prolongated over growing and living. He had never been able to ask for her forgiveness, for not being a better son. For forgetting that without her, he was not himself.

In the dark, he had begged her ghost to never leave him. He was alone and he didn’t know which path to take. He was still a broken child, despite her being so far away from him, walking through starlight and galaxies he’d never be able to touch. He carried her in his skin, he had been birthed from her love, and he’d die belonging to her.

Glimpsing into the last of his memories of his mother, he remembered how it had snowed on her hair, the cyan locks painted by the clock with the dye of time’s arrow. Wringing loneliness away, chasing a smile that would never return.

She had loved him since he could remember her, good love from the first moment he had seen her – a love with infinite space on his notebook to paint her name and proudly display to the world. The woman who had loved him even when he came in second to last during races. She who loved him when he was insensitive or when he was an artist.

Love in the things she had advised, and her universal gift to forgive. She had never blackmailed him, never set fidelity rules. Had loved him all the same if he was a warrior or if he won a Nobel prize for peace. If he got to the finish line first or last, if he conformed or fought. No curve had ever pushed him away from her. There had never been a maybe on her lips.

Now that everything was silent and that an ephemeral calm nipped at his heart – flames licking at his skin, he wanted to bid his farewell to the memory of his mother. It was time for him to move forward without her, only the wind knew how much he had suffered for loving her. There were so many things neither of them had said in life – that he had been everything she had loved, and now that she was no longer beside him, she’d watch over him from within the constellations blocked by polluted lights.

Guilt harassed him, whispering in his ear that he could’ve done so much more. There were barely any demons left in the glass depth, and he drank only the embraces he had never gifted her. A hand on his shoulder had told him that she’d live every time he talked about her, and that she’d die all over again when he cried – leading him to bottle up every tear inside of him in a chest.

From her heaven, she’d tuck him in at night, and would lull him to sleep in his dreams, chasing away all fears. She’d write him from above the clouds that she wasn’t alone, that hope and freedom took care of her, a balm to the burns permanently etched into her skin.

That his mother would never forget him, and that he only spoke to her in his dreams.

He shifted in his bed, grimacing at the pain that spread through his arms and chest. The robes he wore covered his bruises, the evidence of her everlasting love for him, the punishment he had to go through when he didn’t love her like she wanted him to. She had loved him once again, with open hands and closed fists, and shown the rest of the world he belonged to her.

His eyesight was worsening, and he feared not being able to gaze into her beautiful and freezing green eyes. What if he didn’t remember her anymore? What if the sight of her smile faded from his already weak memory? What if he forgot about the lover he had once had, about the woman who kissed him underneath the cherry blossoms during spring?

 _Believer #A306_. He had been reduced to nothing but a number. Nothing but a shadow of his former self, stripped away from his past and sunk into a blue haze in the shape of a vial. He’d done this in the name of a love he no longer recognized but that he desperately searched for in the body that kissed its knuckles before it caressed his carcass. He felt so weak, so far gone into a universe of his making, of daydreams and nightmares.

The taste of her lips, he barely remembered. It all tasted like poison lately, burning down his throat. Shades of blue and purple, of mint and magenta – had her lips always tasted just like the feeling of those colours all around him? Had her hands always been as capable of healing as they had been of bruising? The cracking of lightning around him, the tingle of her caress sticking to his forehead painfully. Flames taking control of his lungs, even as he attempted to breathe underwater, and being smothered almost as soon as they came.

His world was a cacophony of paradoxes lately. Not loving a woman, but always loving her. Not having a choice, but choosing her. It wasn’t like death, but it wasn’t living. It was a simple, weightless splendour, and endless slumber and numbness of his emotions within a crushing depth. His mind fought the effects of an ocean fog but the whimpering hum of water rushing past his ears lulled his senses against all reason.

Before long, he had ceased to fight the downward pull and simply plummeted into the timeless hurricane of his mind. Forever enveloped in a sea of torment, grief and guilt, never knowing what laid below but always aware of what they had left behind. A world he had unwillingly left shattered, the ones who had so reverently believed in their love…and that it could best it all. He’d felt it, the crimson soaking through the fabric of his clothes. It felt like coming home.

But they didn’t understand that the fight for the living was best fought by the dead.

He had been dead for a while now – been buried along with an empty casket. And yet, sleep evaded him, ran from him into the forest that surrounded him and the trees that trapped him like the arms of a cage. She had put him under some sort of spell, melting his hands to the ground, incapacitating his movements, turning her wishes into commands. Hiding her skeletons when he had shown her his. Making a fool of death and an obsession of paradise with her beauty.

Gone mad within her suffering and cut him down along with her release. Dissolving into ten thousand promises and a thousand ways to lose it all.

A thunder broke through his reverie and he opened his eyes slowly, resentful at the blurriness that greeted him. Lightning flashed and a pair of brown eyes and hair burned into eyelids and his mind – like a sudden burst of clarity amongst an amnesic lagoon of jumbled memories thrown together without any sense.

He…knew that face. Remembered it from pixels on his phone. He could feel sapphire claws loosening their hold on his brain, easing the constant ache of the tightening and pulling. The more he remained, the more he left – in halls of friends gone. He couldn’t remember the name that spun around the beautiful face that had been etched into his mind. Moving through spaces where he used to be, he drowned his hands, hoping to come up with something between his fingers and on his palms.

A story, a _legend_ came to mind. A sailor who fell in love with a sea goddess who entrusted him the task of ferrying the souls of those who died amongst her waters to the next world. His love had been so great that he had agreed to set foot on dry land once every ten years, but whenever he came ashore, she was nowhere to be found – for the wine-dark seas were as fickle and unpredictable as the powerful goddess who ruled them. Scorned, he had imprisoned her in the body of a mortal woman. Yet, the grief and guilt at what he had done had burdened him so much that he ripped his own heart, a heart that had betrayed him, right out of his chest and locked it away. He returned to the seas, and he became death itself.

The syllables slipped naturally from his lips. “ _Calypso…_ ”

Yes, he remembered. Luciel’s voice desperately blabbering away, trying to warn him of an unexpected intruder.

He had known. Of course, he had known. Another casualty, another victim he had not been able to save because he had been too weak, too slow. Not good enough. The journalist who had gone digging for things better left buried below the earth and grass. _But you couldn’t smell the sweet scent of flowers or watch the fluttering of wings when you were underground_.

Brown eyes, brown hair, tan skin. Yes, he remembered. He had figured it out before any of them could and had somehow found a way to buy her time – to buy her some time to enjoy what little freedom was left of her. He was trying his best to protect them all, to take the worst of Rika’s fury so she wouldn’t go after them. He’d be cleansed and crucified for his sins, his guilt bleeding out of him.

The meteorological prognostic these days indicated his early and upcoming death of will. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last, if he’d be allowed to leave the next time he dared walk out the mahogany doors that kept them hidden from the rest of the world.

He’d given his blessing to host the party, but he didn’t know if he’d made the right choice anymore.

There was a dense cloud of guilt over him, knowing that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed the new party planner, knowing green and mutated mint eyes also watched over her – waiting for something he couldn’t grasp. Perhaps he had unknowingly handed the key to them to unlock the realm he had been trying to protect.

Convinced he could do it on his own, convinced that all he needed to do was stay by her side, he had been washed away in the complex way his lover shifted life. Trembling in the midst of truth, in the reality of the wickedness she was capable of in the name of salvation. He had lost himself in her waves, granted her permission to pick him apart and build him back however she pleased.

Slowly, he propped himself up, whining at the pain that spread through his body like an electrical current, lighting every vein with an azure glow. He had to leave, just for a while, and put things back in order as best as he could so the rest of the RFA was protected from his scorned goddess. From his saviour and her face stained in the ceiling.

Nobody would come and save him; he had pulled too many false alarms. He was going down, but he’d make sure the rest of them didn’t follow in his path. He’d die protecting them, protecting her – the only light he had ever seen.

He just had to prepare them for his fading in the wind, to make sure they’d be immune to her reach. To protect the only twin he was capable of protecting, to protect his best friend, to protect her cousin, to protect his snowy muse, to protect the frustrated secretary, and to protect the journalist he had never gotten to meet but that he knew was a good person – he could feel it. Rolling in bed, he forced himself to get up.

Piece by piece, step by step, he pushed himself to battle the blue haze in his mind so he could gather enough transparency to return as he was to a life he could barely recall.

A phantom watched him walk out the doors, even harmless in death as she faked sleep to count his breath in the past within crumbled bedsheets and the chirping of birds.

The sounds of night as an integral part of the forest that would lead him to a civilization he didn’t know how to function in anymore. He hoped his weakened vision didn’t betray him and lead him astray, lost in the wilderness and left to be consumed by the animals and herbs in amongst the sleep.

The dirt and pebbles crunched beneath the weight of his shoes, his robes dragging along as he tried to remember the way back to his home somewhere in the mountains. Walls made of glass that only showed the outside, never the inside. An analogy to his life, of the privacy he cherished and that harmed him. Of every life he had ever touched but never allowed to even graze his skin – much less his cognitive process. Of views he could no longer appreciate because his eyes had given themselves up to the will of a fiery woman. 

God, he loved her and she'd be his downfall. 

But he loved her. 

_So much._

* * *


	23. Ava

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My conscience burning; my eyes are too. Cuddled up with a heart condemned, I should love you and I swear I do.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“The dark does not destroy the light; it defines it.  
It’s our fear of the dark that casts our joy into the shadows.”  
\- Brené Brown_

* * *

The pavement resonated with the sound of her heels clicking against the surface of it as she walked back to the apartment. The limousine had left her a couple of blocks away from the gated community and she had thanked Jumin for it. She wondered if Driver Kim had found it suspicious that she was basically walking in the same direction he was driving in. He had said nothing of her staying so late with Zen and she supposed it was because he was paid not to interfere. _Say nothing, hear nothing, see nothing, do nothing_ – much like the job of an agent who was paid to turn a blind eye.

She could still feel Zen's hands over her body, the tenderness of his lips against her skin, the hardness of him inside of her moving, the sounds of pleasure that left his lips. It counted as something of a blessing and a curse the fact that she had been able to get him off her system…partially. If she was to be completely honest with herself, she’d have to admit that tasting him had barely grazed the surface of the things she wanted to do to him.

It had not been just sex; she had known as she stared into his eyes while rocking into his body. It had been the beginning of something she was terrified of exploring because she knew it could only end up one way – destruction and heartbreak. She had allowed his siren song to pull her down into the ocean with him, to drown her in lives she could never possess. It had been the way he carefully treated her, how he sought her consent in every touch and lingering look, how he asked her about herself, how he was capable of envisioning a future she dared not touch for she knew her wings would melt underneath his scorching affections.

Moreover, it had been the way he touched and looked at her so reverently, as if she were something divine and holy – as if she deserved _everything_ he had been willing to give her. As if she had not been a selfish monster, taking only a portion of what she desired from him. Her conscience burned with the power of a dragon’s breath – hotter than anything else, capable of turning anything into ash before it had the chance to realise what was happening. A fire so hot that it melted your eyes and turned them into liquid, filling the sockets they had once occupied.

Guilt ate away at her, consuming any positive emotion she had had during the day. How could she have let herself be so stupid? So careless? Had she learned nothing in Sicily? Had the pain of killing her lover, of seeing her blood on her hands every time she washed them until they were raw not been enough?

Every hit, every shot, every scream rushed into her mind, a reminder that she was never going to be a good person, she was a monster. She killed for a living, she rejoiced in it when it felt right. The line that should never be crossed had been her refuge after the death of her innocence. Born and raised for this type of life, the only way she’d ever be able to live peacefully was by disappearing into some unknown town where no one ever recognized her.

Yet she knew it was foolish. No one who had ever seen her face had lived to tell the tale of her features, of the devil in her eyes when she pulled the trigger.

She was the beastly end of Bethlehem, the reaper of lives. Her hands overflowed with blood, all the way down to her feet where she stood on a lake of the lives she’d undeservingly taken in the name of the greater good – in the name of an agency that sought to protect the world but that had to bend its morals when it came to it. The greys flashed and changed like static.

He deserved better than her, better than the illness she spread like paint on a canvas – leaving a mark of error wherever she went, dripping into the fabric. Every hello came with a knowledge that one day there would be a goodbye. She just didn’t think it would hurt so much to think about it after all these years. She should’ve been prepared for it, the force of habit embedded into her very being – to leave every lover she had ever had behind. All the secrets she held inside of herself, all the lies and treachery. She couldn’t stand herself when she deviated from what she was, when she allowed herself to bask in normalcy and discovered she enjoyed it.

The acquaintances in her head bled into her memories, her demons and villains never died because she had always needed them to control herself. This was her reality; she couldn’t wake up. It was not a dream. Her dreams tasted hot and sweet, they filled her with a sense of comfort and belonging that she feared holding onto because she knew it would never last beyond the halls she grew up in.

She wanted to play along, to make believe it was real, but from the battlefield in which she stood, the only option left for her was to live in a hologram with him. It was a cold, insidious hiss in the back of her mind, whispering in a disturbing replica of her lover’s voice. Whispering that she could do it – that reality stood no chance against the promise of his embrace.

“I may be past the age of paramours and trysts, 401, but I recognize a walk of shame when I see it.” _A_ ’s voice rang behind her, making her stop dead in her tracks.

Calypso turned around and noticed the man sitting on bench beside a lamppost, an opened poetry book on his lap and a vintage leather briefcase beside him.

Instantly, she straightened up and reached into her clutch, pulling her phone out and turning it off. “ _A_.”

“There’s no one around, child. It’s fine.” He waved his hand dismissively and patted the spot next to him.

Like she used to when she was a child, she almost hopped all the way to him – the comfort and familiarity of his presence filling her with joy. He was something far fiercer than faith standing between her and the gates of hell, he would always protect her, always love her.

Before she could even speak, he pulled her close, his head coming to rest on top of hers and she just…breathed in the love she had for this man because this was as close as she’d ever get to come home.

They both knew _home_ was a time neither of them could ever go back to.

She closed her eyes, let the relief and assurance wash over her like a waterfall on stone, eroding away at the hard edges and leaving smoothness behind.

“We’ve missed you.” He spoke, his hand squeezing her shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, too.” She reflected like a mirror, lifting her head and staring into his brown eyes. “ _A_ …I think I’m making the same mistakes all over again.”

Truthfully, she had not meant to tell him how far in deep she had fallen back into the claws of a love not yet birthed, but still growing. Of how her beastly mind had screeched at her images of that warped, horrible Sicilian smile trying to warn her of where she’d end up. But she couldn't help it. 

He remained silent for a moment as they both looked up at a dark, starless sky. “Which one of them?”

“The actor.” She replied, looking away, letting her hair shield her face away from him in shame.

“I’m not surprised.” He spoke, his eyes still focused on the sky. “He’s a beautiful man and, based on what I’ve read, he’s also quite a charming one.”

“Perhaps it’s time you pull me from this mission before I ruin it, send someone else to take my place.” She choked out, fighting back tears.

“You’ve achieved more than any other agent could’ve. You’ll have to see this through, Calypso, whether you like it or not.” _A_ cautioned. “Which brings me to why I’m here.”

Finally, she gathered enough courage to look back at him and gifted him a watery smile. “I was so caught up with seeing you that I didn’t even think to question why you’re here.”

“I’m your father, child, it’s only natural.” He teased, closing his book and opening the briefcase beside him. “The antidote is ready.”

Her eyes widened as he handed her two small glass vials with a golden liquid that lifted like the sunrise when he turned them for her sampling. She took them from him gently and observed their content. It looked like gold.

“This is…how did you manage to get it so fast? It’s only been four days.” She whispered in amazement. “I thought it would take longer.”

_A_ frowned. “The ingredients contained in that drug are _extremely_ dangerous, Calypso. You need to avoid it at all costs. You’ll have to split one between the reporter and the wedding planner, we’ll have more for them once you retrieve them. The other one is meant for you, in case you come into contact with it, you’ll need to counter its effects as fast as possible.”

“How dangerous?” She asked, staring into space.

“It acts fast by releasing dopamine. We replicated it in our labs, and it left our subjects with headaches and disorientated. It depends on the amount ingested, of course. It’s meant to cause brain damage, 401. It affects only certain areas of the brain, which means that the creator’s goal is for people to be unable to make decisions.”

“I think she’s alive.” She blurted out after processing the information.

“Who?” _A_ asked, closing his briefcase with the book inside. “The victim?”

She nodded and proceeded to detail her findings, explaining how she came up with the theory she now had. He remained silent through it all, only asking questions when needed. The more she spoke, the more she realised it didn’t sound like madness anymore. Her mentor’s reaction to her findings only helped strengthen her belief that she was on the right path.

“It seems plausible.” He simply said after she was done talking. “Keep an eye open, Calypso. The sooner you figure this out, the sooner you’ll be able to go home.”

The word hit her like a bullet to the heart and she sighed. _A_ noticed her sudden change of demeanour and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s that boy, isn’t it?” He intoned, his accent emphasizing the last word. “You have feelings for him.”

“I…” She trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I think so. If they’re not there yet, they’re coming. It all seems familiar, yet I know I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Familiar how?”

“Like…Sicily.” She admitted, her head hanging down. “It’s similar but not the same. I don't know how to explain it.”

“I understand.” He said simply.

They stayed like that for a moment, side by side in silence. They normally didn’t speak of feelings; she had a therapist meant for that. But she always came back to him, to the _Administrator_ , because she trusted him more than anyone else in the world. Tears started gathering at the corner of her eyes. 

Minutes ticked by and she waited for the inevitable chastising he’d probably deliver her way, but instead she was met with a question she had never expected to slip from his lips.

“Did I ever tell you how Ian and I met?” He asked, referring to his husband, and her other father figure.

She sniffed. “No…”

“I was on a mission.” He confessed, looking down at his hands.

Her ears couldn’t believe what she had just heard. _A_ had always dissuaded her from pursuing relationships, had always warned her of the dangers that would come from falling in love with a target. He had had the audacity of telling her to keep her feelings at bay when he had never had the strength to do so himself.

“What?”

_A_ chuckled, looking up at the sky. “You know I rarely go out into the field. I met him on one of those rare occasions. The main singer of a band that played indie music.”

“Is that why he’s so good at playing the guitar?” She asked playfully, daring to venture a little deeper into his romantic life.

“Yes.” He laughed. “But he was rubbish back then. I spent night after night in his bed, convincing myself that I knew what I was doing – that he was nothing more than a means to scratch an itch.”

“Clearly, he was more than good at it.” She teased.

“Oh, absolutely.” He grinned, looking at her. “Little by little, I got lost in those blue eyes and blond hair. He didn’t know my name, but he took me to his bed every night. I started forgetting the reason I was out in the field.”

She swallowed, her own experiences coming back to open the curtains of things she’d rather forget.

“When the time finally came to face my target head on, he was in the room playing his rubbish songs for a public that didn't appreciate him. I _can't_ blame them, honestly. But, the target started threatening to kill everyone in the place if I refused to stand down, to let him go. I refused and he pulled the trigger.”

“What happened?” She sputtered, hanging onto his every word.

“The bullet was headed straight for Ian. I had to decide in those seconds whether I would let the man I loved die or not.”

He breathed in and looked at her intently. “I took the bullet for him and I had to chase down my target through the streets with a bullet wound that would surely kill me. Ian chased after me and found me bleeding out next to my target’s corpse.”

“He found out who you were.” She mumbled.

“He did. At first, he was in denial, unable to believe he had been bedding a spy. He made quite a few jokes about writing songs about it.” He chuckled.

“Did he?” She queried, smiling.

“You’ll have to ask him when you get back because, to this day, he refuses to show me.”

She chuckled. “What did you do?”

“He visited me every day at the hospital. Believe me, I was the last person willing to fall in love with a Yankee, but he accomplished it wonderfully. He asked me to marry him after only having known each other for a couple weeks.”

“I’m assuming you said yes.” She guessed, shaking her head in amusement because it did sound a lot like Ian.

“Oh, _no_ , I rejected him right then and there. It would only be a couple of years later that I would ask him to marry me and move with me to England. He still complains about the weather but neither of us would change it for the world. He helped me raise you, after all.”

“I’m glad it worked out for you two.” She croaked sadly. “I really am.”

He smiled at her. “You see, Calypso, love is a powerful thing and I am aware of the fact that you’ve only met the tragic side of it.”

“No shit.” She attempted to joke.

_A_ glared at her. “But when you love someone, you'd do anything for them. My situation with Ian is one in a million. I’m not dissuading you from pursuing this boy, Calypso, but you must finish your mission first. If he is involved, you must be prepared to pull the trigger no matter what.”

She remained silent, playing with the fabric of her pants. “Is it always like this for us? We break and we leave pain everywhere we go.”

“Yes, it is.” He murmured. “It never gets easier. You just get stronger.”

“That’s not _nearly_ as comforting as you think it is.”

“I never said it was _comforting_ , 401.”

“Fuck…” She breathed out, throwing her head back as she laughed. “I’m fucked, am I not?”

“Quite possibly, but you’ve always been good at… _un-fucking_ yourself.” He tried.

“Will you be staying?” She asked, knowing his words had done their job at screwing her head back into her shoulders tightly. She had his blessing, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to face the situation head on once again. 

“Ah, Ian is waiting for me at the hotel. We decided to take a vacation.” He informed her nonchalantly.

“You’re not here because you’re worried I’ll fuck up, right?” She accused.

“If I believed that, 401, I wouldn’t have sent you on this mission. Perhaps we’ll go and see one of that boy’s plays.” He declared.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Let me know if you like them. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing him act yet.”

“Yet you’ve had the pleasure of bedding him.” He stated, eyeing her up and down with a knowing smile on his face.

Blood rushed to her cheeks and she prayed to whatever goodness remained in the world that he didn’t notice it.

“I’ll get to cracking the rest of the system today. It can’t wait any longer.” She said, standing up and putting the vials inside of her clutch safely.

_A_ hummed, raising his eyebrow. “Go ahead, change the topic.”

“I wasn’t –“

“You know how to contact me if you need me. Be careful child.” He answered, standing up as well. “You could join us once your mission is done. And if everything goes well with Hyun, we’d love to meet him.”

Zen's real name sounded so alien on his lips. And yet, his words sparked hope in her chest, and she nodded. “I think you’d really like him.”

“An attractive man like him? No doubt.” He teased as he walked away. “We’ll stay in contact.”

She watched his figure disappear with every step he took in the direction of the gate, where a luxurious car awaited him. Once he was out of view, she took her phone out and turned it on.

Frowning, she noticed it was being hacked once again. Just a few hours ago, she had been talking to Jumin.

Had the hacker been watching her?

She studied the area desperately, pulling out _Boxi_ and scanning her surroundings. It was absolutely empty except for her. _A_ wouldn’t have approached her if he had not been certain they were completely alone. He was ten times more careful than she was, he wasn’t the head of the agency for nothing.

With her attention directed at the phone once again, the RFA Messenger opened on its own and she waited to see what happened.

> **_Unknown:_ ** _Sae--_you*__rayed? -0_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Is &__-#fun-_@_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _…_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _You^_ ando%−#−−?_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _._
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _\-----------@@_
> 
> **_Unknown:_ ** _Traitor._

The chatroom switched back to normal and she was left with nothing but the memory of the messages she had just read and the log on _Boxi_.

> _707 has entered the chatroom_

She cursed under her breath as she hurried back to the apartment.

Time was running out.

* * *


	24. Dreamland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pulling down backstreets deep in your head, slipping through dreamland like a tourist.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“We are time’s test subjects, and  
time bids be gone.”  
\- William Shakespeare_

* * *

For as long as she remembered, she had always seen the world through the screen of a phone. Her life condensed in the reflection of the plastic glass that stared back at her with the passing of time. The shape shifted, stark and bereft of life until she pressed the button that rushed electricity through its system. Her perception, although lackadaisical, also shifted with it. A boon to the way in which her life had treaded along a path she had not always been fond of.

The first time she came into contact with a phone, she had been but a child. Her mother’s voice asking her to fetch the phone so she could call her father. Conversations filled with joy and endearment through an invisible communication line. Ensconced in the comfort of a happy and perfect family. Sitting at the table, eating the special food her mother had prepared for her birthday, the icing of the cake on her cheek and her father’s smile as he wiped it lovingly with his thumb.

It was her mother talking through the phone with her friends as she played with other kids at the park, as she laughed and ran and dirtied her knees with sand – bruising them and running to her mother because she was bleeding. Her mother kissing the bruise to make it better and later on putting a band aid on top of it.

Photographs stored in the phone’s limited memory, only capable of holding less than a hundred coloured and blurred images of the experiences that had shaped her as a person.

Playing on her mother’s phone at the hospital’s waiting room while her father got treatment for a disease. The phone didn’t have any games, but she typed in random words on the notes or listened to the many sounds she could program as her mother’s ringtone. Pretending she was a celebrity or someone important talking through the phone.

During many sleepless nights, her mother dozed off next to her phone as it charged, waiting for a call that would inevitably come as a consequence of marrying a man ten years older than her. The bank notices piling up on the table beside the fruit bowl she had painted as a gift for Mother’s Day with little mismatched and badly coloured flowers. Her mother refused to open them and Jaehee had to sit down on the floor with a dictionary in one hand and the letters on the other so she could tell her mother their contents when she was grazed with a moment of consciousness and awareness through a depressive episode.

They had been watching a movie together when her mother’s phone rang loudly, and she had been far too focused on the moving images of talking toys to pay attention to what the emissary on the other side of the line was telling her mother. She remembered her mother’s tear-filled eyes, her hands on her shoulders, as she told her that her father had finally moved on to a better place where he wasn’t in pain anymore. Her small brain had not been able to comprehend it, so her eyes drifted back to the television.

Her mother spent all day making phone calls. Family, funerary services, lawyers. She had just sat beside her, watching her mother break down with every number she dialled, her resolve being chipped away with the sound of a call ending. She dived into a make-believe world where everything was okay, and her father was just sleeping.

They took the flowers from the windowsill, packed up the photos and drawings she had made for him – hoping he’d get better. They were all memories of a life that had been loved. With a heavy heart, they had thrown away all the get well soon cards and stuffed animals.

Her mother had been unable to pack up his clothes, so the task was left to her – she folded them neatly and put them in a case. She made the bed, fluffed the pillows and dusted the room. She was told that he’d been called home and that, one day, she’d see him once again. After all, he was always looking out for her.

During the funeral, she recalled the sound of a phone ringing.

She was given her first phone when she entered middle school. With strict instructions to only use it during emergencies. But she had been a teenager, wanting to let loose from the parental child role she had acquired by taking care of her mother when her depression crippled her to her bed. She prank-called people with her friends during lunch and took pictures.

They shared songs and pictures through the revolutionary Bluetooth feature that modern phones came with. Her hand tightly holding onto the device while she listened to music on the bus ride home, dreading the moment she’d have to walk through the front door and find out which version of her mother she’d have for the day. Would her mother be up and about, making lunch after her shift at the nursing home? Or would her mother be in bed with greasy hair and with a rumbling stomach because she couldn’t bear to get up?

She had been in math class, learning trigonometric identities, when the director of her school walked into her class and asked for her, a sad and awkward look on his face. All the way to his office, she was met with looks of pity and polite smiles. Unable to fathom the reason behind it, she merely let her feet guide her to where she was supposed to go.

The director handed her the phone without explanation and she identified herself to the caller. Her world crumbled like a pastry, the pieces floating down like flakes to the floor, as she listened to her uncle tell her that her mother had been in a car accident and that he’d be picking her up shortly. The director had allowed to stay in his office, shock rendering her useless as she simply stared straight down at her phone.

It was as if her background mocked her, a picture of her mother smiling beside her looking back at her. It had been one of those rare days in which her mother’s depression took a break. They were on a restaurant, eating junk food and laughing over some silly show. Her mother wore a pink lipstick and pearls on her neck, her beautiful long hair blending into hers as they posed.

Her uncle didn’t have the heart to allow her to identify the body, and he had done it himself at the morgue. Once the news spread through school, she got a million calls. She watched the phone ring until they gave up and curled up in bed. She focused on homework, letting the numbers and letters take her away into a world of logic and reasoning where everything was as it was supposed to be.

Moving in under her uncle’s custody was a strange experience for her. She could clearly hear his wife’s displeasure at having to raise a child that wasn’t her own arguing with her uncle over the phone. Most of the time, she tried to stay away from her, locking herself in her room and studying for hours on end. She took extracurricular activities so she’d have to spend less time at home. With every passing day, her life became a routine she was never able to break away from.

The songs in her phone changed, so did the way she texted. Her friends slowly became acquaintances. Laughs she could recognize everywhere faded into mumbles and hushed conversations as she passed by them through the halls and reclused herself to the library, where she could study in peace. Where she lost herself in fantasy worlds and characters with epic adventures.

She graduated early with honours. Her grades had been above average, with perfect scores and flawless tests. After applying to a few colleges, she got a scholarship to one of the top universities in the country. Her uncle had been sad to see her go, but his wife had been relieved – even after getting used to her silent and polite presence. Their calls eventually becoming a monthly occurrence instead of a daily check-in.

Once she switched up her phone, she made sure her old background came with it. Slowly, the app calendar began filling up with events and due dates. Her roommate rarely spent time in their dorm, out partying, so she mostly had the room all to herself. Her contacts mostly consisted of class partners and people who called her when they needed help with a project or understanding a topic. She dated a boy, but she was unable to prioritize their relationship above her grades, which led to its devastating end. And, like always, she archived her feelings for later – when she had the time to unload them into a pint of ice cream.

Her fingers tapped the alarm every morning, waking up early in case she needed to do something or if any inconveniences turned up. Eventually, she got a call from the coffee shop near her dorm, and they told her she had gotten the barista job she had applied for. So, every day, after class, she walked all the way to the café and worked a short shift. Afterwards, she headed home and spent all night studying and doing homework.

Most of the time, her phone had a high battery percentage from her lack of use. Her days muddled together, from class to work, and from work to her room. It was a loop she had settled comfortably in. It was like that, habits ruling her body, that she reached her senior year and graduated early once again, with honours.

She had met V at the graduation ceremony, where he had delivered a speech that was meant to inspire the new members of society to become their very best selves. He had been interested in her, in her 4.0 GPA and time management skills. Through their brief interaction, they had exchanged contact information, and he claimed that he knew just the place where she could begin her work life.

Having settled into her new apartment, ready to begin her life as an independent adult, she had been making dinner when her phone rang. Wiping her hands on her apron, she had pressed the _accept call_ button.

Joy could barely describe the way she had felt when they informed her that she had gotten the position of the CEO’s personal assistant. She had thanked God, and swiftly prepared herself for her first day on the job.

Upon settling into her new position in C&R International, she was given a company phone. For the first time since middle school, her background was no longer her mother’s smiling face. Instead, it was replaced with the company’s logo.

In hindsight, she knew it was the beginning of her internalizing the role she had been given. The first year had been exciting, following around one of the most powerful men in Seoul, managing his life. She had met all sorts of powerful people, dined and talked to them to the point in which she realized they were simply normal people. They had dreams, faults and aspirations like everyone else. And their contacts were saved into her phone whenever Mr. Han needed them. And just like her phone, she became a tool. 

As her life continued, her connection to her family, to her uncle, broke. She no longer talked to them unless it was to wish them a happy birthday or holiday wishes. Her phone was the only company she had, the only bridge she possessed to connect with people.

And then, after joining the RFA, her phone finally blew up with messages from people who actually cared. She met Zen, and her life was forever changed and inspired by him. He was the one who paid the most attention to her, the one who worried over her and chastised Jumin when he overworked her. He was her friend. 

After receiving the call from both Mr. Han and V, informing her of Rika’s death, she had felt a little light go out. Her relationship to Rika had always been professional, but she recognized the woman’s ability to connect everyone. To reach into the heart of others and settle a warmth there that could only be compared to a fireplace during winter.

Once again, her phone was only utilized for work. Calendar filled with meetings, events, deadlines and commitments.

Her life went back to eating and drinking her feelings away, staring at the only digital picture she had left of her mother. She kept the photo albums neatly packed away in a box, never to see the light of day. Watching Zen’s plays on her TV and watching him live when she had the time were the few pleasures she had.

Occasionally, she logged into the RFA chatroom to check on the rest of the members, praying to God they were having a better time at life than she was.

It was on one of those days that she saved Calypso’s number on her phone, forever etching her into her life.

She had resisted at first, not wanting to let her get too close for fear of the worst happening. But, little by little, she had slowly started growing on her. She had cheered her up and encouraged her to continue the research she had been doing for one of Mr. Han’s projects – a coffee company. After her boss had told her he was calling the project off, essentially throwing the long hours she had spent on it away to the rubbish bin, she had been disheartened.

Inside of her notes app, she had a draft of her resignation letter just waiting for her to type into a document and print so she could leave it on Mr. Han’s desk. Her browser app’s history was filled with research about coffee, with things she needed to know.

It had been on her mind for a while now. Quitting her job and opening a café, an echo of her college job. How had she not noticed how much she loved coffee? Mr. Han had unknowingly handed back a piece of her identity back to her, a piece of who she was and who she wanted to be. She was unable to ignore it any longer. 

Lately, she had been bothered by Calypso’s growing relationship with Zen, but she was finally beginning to understand that it was no longer in her hands to control what happened between them. Despite her best efforts, they had developed feelings that could not easily be tossed aside, Calypso had told her that much.

Part of her was happy that Zen had cheered up after she had visited, and after much rumination, she was glad it had been the journalist who had gone in her stead.

So, she gave them one last warning and continued with her day, exchanging emails and checking her phone constantly in case Mr. Han needed her.

A couple minutes after her shift ended, Mr. Han called her. She had debated whether to accept the call and have the rest of her day ruined or ignore the call and spend the rest of her day in blissful ignorance, watching Zen’s acting on her TV.

Against her protests, she accepted the call. She checked her phone one last time and joined Mr. Han on the limousine headed to his apartment in the most luxurious gated community in the city. They were silent though the whole ride and she focused on answering emails and completing paperwork – only talking to him when she needed his input regarding something. He worked just as hard as her, if not more. But she genuinely questioned his sanity sometimes.

Upon arriving at his penthouse, he claimed he had lost his pen and that he needed to find it. She was stuck looking for a _damn_ pen, a _gold_ pen with incrusted _diamonds_ on it. She truly wondered if her paycheck was worth the stupid things he made her do. She couldn’t complain, at least he wasn’t inappropriate.

After a while of searching, she reported to him that she couldn’t find it and he stated that they only needed to search meticulously. She tried to remind her that her overtime was expensive, but he didn’t pay her no mind.

Her eyes drifted towards the beautiful flat screen on his living room and she asked him if he was willing to pay for her overtime with it. She was surprised at the fact that he had agreed. Before she could resume her search of the pen, he told her they needed to check the product before going forward. He would not finalize a contract without checking the quality of the product first. 

Reaching for the controller, she turned the TV on.

> _“The actor Hyun Ryu, whose stage name is Zen, is fairly popular within the musical theater industry. It was reported last night that he called famous singer Echo Girl to his home and sexually harassed her, shocking the whole nation.”_

Her phone fell to the floor, the glass screen cracking as it connected with the wood, and shock overcame her entire senses. She was barely able to turn to her boss as she uttered her next words.

“What…in the world?” She whispered. “Mr. Han, didn't you say she visited your office this morning?”

He looked uninterested as he answered. “So this is what she was talking about. I remember her saying… _hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_.”

“Even a five-year-old would’ve known that she meant it! How could you have just ignored it?!” She hissed, trying to keep her anger at bay.

“Now that we know the TV works, we should turn it off.” He concluded, ignoring her outburst.

Desperate, she took the controller from him. “We can’t! What else did Echo Girl say?”

“Oh, I think she said she was going to have revenge on me.” He added in an unencumbered manner.

“What?!” She turned to him in disbelief.

> _“We’ve received a tip that C &R International’s director Jumin Han is gay. After this brave comment from this singer, we have been bombarded with several similar reports. This is a comment from a famous actress who’s requested to remain anonymous: I don’t really care if it’s just me~. But I asked everyone I knew, and they all seemed as if they expected it. I knew he had a secret. How else could he have remained so calm in front of my fabulous body?”_

She turned to look at her boss, knowing this was a mess she’d have to clean up. It would take her hours.

“…I’ll turn the TV off.” She sighed.

Mr. Han resumed his search for the pen and her phone began ringing, the light displaying the cracks.

* * *


	25. Show & Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show and tell, I'm on display for all you fuckers to see. Show and tell, harsh words if you don't get a pic with me. Buy and sell, like I'm a product to society. Art don't sell, unless you've fucked every authority. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“If you come to fame not understanding who  
you are, it will define who you are.”  
\- Oprah Winfrey_

* * *

At first, it had been like being at the bottom of a pool, the water’s pressure chasing all sounds away. The TV seemed so far away as he stared at his picture onscreen. Somewhere along the lines, he had stopped listening to what they were saying about him and Jumin. All sound muffled by the silence of his mind stopping, trying to process what was going on.

Then, it flowed softly, whispers of old insecurities and fears. The words they were using to describe him. Framed as a monster, a man without the ability to control himself. The scenes played back, Calypso leaving, Echo Girl visiting – offering him a relationship beyond the limits of profession. He had rejected her, he had sent her home, told her that she deserved better. He had been polite.

The memory of Calypso’s skin against his own now seemed like a faraway event, everything had spiralled down into a hole where the body of his career and reputation would be buried after his crucifixion. The day had been perfect, when did it go so wrong? When had he been brought upon the judgement of Osiris to be ruled out a sinner? 

Sound came back violently to him, his phone vibrating and ringing tirelessly against the coffee table. The people on the media openly cutting him with the new labels that would follow his name. He’d be forever associated with the word “predator”, this would be the first thing that popped up when people looked for him online. She was a year or two younger than him, almost as young as Yoosung. She had power, she had influence, she had money.

Hushes outside of his front door forced him to steal a glance at it to make sure it was locked. Part of him was glad that his apartment was mostly underground, otherwise people would be staring through his windows, trying to gauge out his reaction.

He had not touched her. He had not even been close enough to breathe against her skin, he had been respectful. What she was claiming was a lie.

If it was a lie, why had it morphed into a fake truth?

He _always_ believed the victims. He believed that men and women were created equal. It took a lot of courage and bravery to come forward about sexual assault, regardless of your gender. He knew it was hard for women, not everyone believed them. Men, especially in positions of power, had a tendency to make the accusations go away and it always angered him when the victims didn’t get the closure and justice they deserved. Women had it worse than them, in every aspect. In theory, they had the same rights as men, but in practice, there was a gap of injustice so great that women still had to fight for their rights.

But if he always believed the victims, if he had openly advocated for women in the past, who would believe him when he tried to tell the truth? He wouldn’t believe himself. No one would believe that he had not touched her. She was young and beautiful, he recognized that much, but the thought of disrespecting her had never been whispered into his mind.

Had he done something to make her uncomfortable? Had he crossed a line he didn’t know about? What if he had truly touched her and he just didn’t remember? What if he was also a monster?

What if he was one of those men? Men who were nothing more than greedy creatures, thirsty for control and power, lustful of young women.

When they knew what they knew about a monster like that, and they still put him on a platform where he could reach people every week, they were teaching a generation of young boys and girls that a man’s reputation was more important than the lives of the women he had ruined.

But he had done nothing wrong, right? Even if he hadn’t, he knew that everyone would see him, treat him and label him as if he had. The line was so thin between the image of a man who tried to cover his awful behaviour and the image of a man who had done nothing wrong but looked like he had. To the public, to the media, it was all the same. There was no significant difference. If you looked like a monster, you’d be treated as such.

The public needed someone to praise and someone to lynch – a witch to burn at the stake. It had always been like that. There was a need for black and white. They were humans, they all needed to buy into belief systems on complete faith. They all needed to feel some form of an _us vs. them_ mentality.

Humans had not evolved for tolerance, acceptance…even happiness. They had evolved for survival of the fittest. Their natural instincts were inherently combative and destructive. It was only through the achievements of reason and intellect that they had been able to stop slaughtering each other long enough to build a functioning society. In a sense, they were the only species that became smart enough to choose what the next step of its evolution should be.

They were also inherently self-destructive – because the easiest way to accommodate the fear of their own unworthiness was to declare the unworthiness of others. The unworthiness of those who looked, acted and believed differently. The only way out of their own self-hatred and self-destructive nature was not declaring how right they were, but rather in accepting how wrong they were.

The need had to be satisfied. This time, though, the monster was the one being praised and the only spot left… _was meant for him_.

His strings had been cut, tossed aside and burnt into ash. He was reduced to nothing more than a marionette on the floor, stomped and spit on. He could almost see his reputation and his career burn in the wildfire Echo Girl's lies would surely spread. 

The emotional process of his mind was so foggy that he couldn’t even get mad, he felt as if the world had just ended. The images on the TV showed his house, he could hear the reporters and the flashing of cameras like thunder outside.

In this field of work, using people to reach a goal was not uncommon. He had stayed away from that path, had always believed in his talent to get him far. And yet, he had just been used. Used for childish revenge. She had not gotten what she wanted, and she had made sure he’d pay for it.

He hated himself even more for ever wanting to be up on stage with her, for not turning down an opportunity that came from money and influence. Both Seven and Calypso had attempted to reassure him, to tell him that no one would’ve rejected such an opportunity.

> **_707:_ ** _If she paid to get those articles written, it_
> 
> _won’t be too hard to solve the problem._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Since money always loses to more money…_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Hm…is there anything we can do?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Haha…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _We have the RFA’s bank here? Lol_

His anxious mind read the messages Seven had exchanged with Calypso after he left, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, understand them through the haze of self-hatred that filled him. How had he ended up like this? He could barely bear to get up from his bed.

There were people dying in other parts of the world, people starving, and he was worried over his career and reputation? He was pathetic. That was the only explanation he could find for the way he felt in that moment, with the covers on top of his body, hiding from the world.

Almost on instinct, his fingers dialled Calypso’s phone number. She had believed him without questioning whether what was said on the television was true or not. She could’ve been pulled into the whole mess and instead of worrying about herself, she had tried to comfort him. He felt bad about disappearing, but he needed to release his emotions, to weep underneath the covers like a child.

She picked up the call instantly and he felt relief at knowing she hadn’t rejected him. He wouldn’t be able to survive that.

“Hey…it’s me…” He whispered. “I don’t deserve to talk to you, but I thought I at least had to call you.”

“Don’t say that, Zen. I’m here for you.” Her sweet voice came through the other side.

“I had no idea this would happen…I never imagined…” He stopped himself before he could complete the sentence. “I’m so sorry I sound so depressed…”

“It’s better than pretending you’re fine, handsome. It’s okay. Don’t invalidate your feelings.” She attempted to comfort him. He could hear her shifting, possibly getting comfortable.

“Do you really think so? This is…this is really hard, honey.” He mumbled, the term of endearment coming out naturally out of him. “I have no idea how in the world things ended up like this. Since when did things start to take the wrong turn?”

“Zen…”

“Did it all start when I was tempted by a huge opportunity that wasn’t really meant for me?” He asked, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Was I being too greedy? Was it really that out of my reach? I don’t know. I don’t know anything now.”

“Hey, listen to me.” She consoled. “I would have had a hard time, too. It’s not your fault. She _won’t_ get away with this, the RFA will do everything in its power to make sure of it. For now…think you were unlucky. It’ll be okay, handsome, I promise.”

He chuckled wetly. “I think _unlucky_ is an understatement…but okay I’ll do that. Thank you for telling me that when I’m so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic, handsome.”

“Sorry I was too occupied with myself. What about you? How are you doing? You can tell me right now. You’ve seen the embarrassing sides of me.” He changed the subject, unable to bear it anymore.

He wanted to hear from her, to know her day had been better than his. He needed her to shine through the darkness that had settled over him like a crown. _The king of beasts_ , he mused humourlessly.

“Well…I’m a bit stressed. I’ve been working on a…piece that just seems to evade me. But…overall, I’m okay. I’m worried for you.” She contributed, a sad edge to her voice.

He didn’t deserve her. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You must be a really stable person. One of us suffering is enough, so this is good.”

“I promise it’ll be okay, handsome.” She emphasized. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure this goes away.”

Shaking his head, he knew it just wasn’t possible. How could a rumour like this go away? All evidence was stacked against him. Slowly, he laid back down and closed his eyes, picturing Calypso’s smiling face.

“I’m so glad I called you. I didn’t feel like I could sleep, but I think I can now thanks to you.” He finished, knowing that even if he went to bed, this wouldn’t go away. He wouldn’t wake up from this nightmare.

“I’m here if you need me.” She added.

“If you can’t sleep, just think of me, okay?”

“I will.”

“Good night, sweet dreams.” He recited, the lines coming to him as if he were playing a role. In a sense, he supposed he was.

Before she could answer, he hung up. He didn’t want to bring her down with the darkness that enveloped him like a lover’s embrace. It was like sleep to the freezing; he could do nothing but wait for the inevitable end that would come.

Thoughts he had not harboured for years began slipping into his mind: water underneath the creaks of a door, covering the floor as far as it could reach. The white enlistment notice turning pink as the water touched it. Red diluted by the addition of life’s source itself. His trembling hands, the blade breaking pale skin. If he dared touch them, he could still feel the faint scars on his wrists. Time had faded them to nothing more than a small outline. He remembered the voices on the radio, telling them everything they could lose.

Sometimes, if he closed his eyes and let his mind run free, he could still hear it. The sound of gunshots, the sound of his comrades yelling, his general barking out orders. Training until his body gave out, sparring, fighting, battling. The weight of a gun on his hands. He’d paid his dues, he’d served when he had been called upon for military service. He was on reserve duty, should the need ever arise for him to serve once again. 

Slowly, he rolled his neck in circles with his eyes closed. Darkness, pain, a buzzcut, pulling the trigger. He remembered it all despite not wanting to. 

He had tried to heal the boy for the man to appear, but he stood on a pillar of sand and salt. It had taken a rumour to destroy his entire career. It had taken one scorned woman to tell a lie, and he would’ve believed her. Choosing his struggles was something he had always been proud of, but now…

Tonight, he knew that he was going to uncover something that had been controlling him his entire life, and he was either going to enhance it or transform it. Life was a series of stacking moments. He was in a fight against an opponent he couldn’t see. But he could feel it on his heels, feel it breathing down his neck. He knew what it was. It was himself. His fears, his doubts, his insecurities, his traumas all lined up ready to take him down.

He had no strength left to fight it, because even if he did, how could he ever win?

This was a losing battle and instead of bending those ideas, he had broken down into a puzzle that would never be able to quite fit. 

And as sleep evaded him and he reached for his phone instead of pushing it away, he dived into yet another ocean of self-hatred. He read the comments, he read the articles, he swallowed them like a black hole.

Each message he exchanged with Calypso soothed his soul, but each message he exchanged with the arrogant heir filled him with fury. The media would easily get off Jumin’s back. He had the power, the money and the influence to make it go away. He had the luxury of turning a blind eye to the rumours and remaining silent.

He wondered, once again, what it was like to hold such power. What it was like to have never struggled for money or a safe place to spend the night? What was it like to have parents who actually supported you? What was it like valuing money above everything else? What was it like to have been given absolutely everything you needed to succeed in life?

The most beautiful people he knew had known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss and had found a way out of the depths. Those people had an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding of life that filled them with compassion, gentleness, and deep loving concern. Beautiful people did not just happen.

Every time he looked at Calypso, he saw that beauty. Real, undying beauty. Something beyond the features of her face, beyond the sculpt of her body. It was the way she handled herself, the way she spoke, the way she thought, the way she cared for them. For him.

Would she be better off with someone like Jumin? He had noticed that she was the only one out of all of them that could understand his emotions, that could interpret properly the messages that he conveyed. She was refined, elegant. He supposed she had a background similar to Jumin’s, based on what she had shared about her past. She was perfect for him.

What could he possibly offer her now? He was now a disgraced actor, the weight of lies tumbled him down to the ground, forced him to bleed out at the edge of a throne he had never been able to sit on. It melted, burning into his every cell with a reminder that he had fulfilled his mother’s prophecy, after all. He had not been able to succeed.

Perhaps she had been right in the end. He had gotten as far as he had because of the way he looked. He was a product, a means to an end. Had any of the offers he had gotten ever been because of his talent? His reputation was cracked into a million glass pieces, the mirror reflecting his face like a kaleidoscope. His efforts had added up to nothing.

He was back where he started, at the finish line with nothing to show for it. It was a zero-sum-game.

A failure of a man. They had described him as nothing more than a musical actor.

He hated Jumin now more than ever. He knew it was misplaced, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but see the shadow of his brother looking down at him, telling him that he was better off doing what people wanted.

Night dragged on, the sound of banging at his door forcing him to barricade it. He was terrified that people would harm him, punish him for something he hadn’t done. He could fight back, get on social media and call her a liar. Even if he hadn’t done it, he’d be guilty of calling her a liar and discrediting her. There was no way out. If he didn’t deny it, he’d be thought guilty. If he denied it, he’d be committing a political sin, it was a trap.

She had known exactly where to harm him. They would either assume his guilt or they would assume he shouldn’t be asserting his innocence. He was a victim, and no one wanted to treat him like one. Generally, movements such as these had pendulum swings, and the pendulum had swung in the direction of labelling him as guilty. Perhaps it would move back towards the centre where the presumption of innocence still prevailed, where he was innocent until proven guilty. 

For now, he was guilty until proven innocent.

Words used to describe a person he was not. There were real monsters out there and he wasn’t one of them. But who would ever believe him when he had no evidence?

He wanted Calypso with him, he wanted her to cover his eyes and cover hers in return. They could live a happy life not seeing what they didn’t want to see.

The dawn had yet to come when he finally decided to go out for a ride. He had not done it in years, his motorcycle was accumulating dust, rusting away from a lack of use. His hands trembled as he put the furniture back in its place and reached for the doorknob. It took a few seconds to gather enough bravery to open it.

When he did, he was met with furious women in front of his door. Had the situation been different, he would’ve been standing beside them, demanding justice. He confronted them as politely as he could, not wanting to damage what little remained of his reputation.

With the wind rushing through his hair, caressing his face violently, he couldn’t help but to let his mind take him. He couldn’t figure out who was really the one to blame. Perhaps he had been too greedy, too ambitious.

_“I just like how hardworking you are. Nothing more. But…I feel so bad to see you do everything on your own. Once you come into the RFA, you will no longer be alone.”_

V’s words sung around his head.

“It’s fine. It’ll pass…like everything always does.” He told himself, not entirely convinced.

He sped down the streets, the lights blending into the background, and all noise drowned out by the howling of the air breaking through his ears. He shouldn’t have been greedy. His grip tightened, the leather protecting his hands creaking painfully underneath his strength.

“Damn it.”

* * *


	26. Goliath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chest and the head divided by a white laser. The pattern of mad strobes, you’re going haywire. In your eyes, night cold, I see the end of us. You're playing your best role, but the mask shatters.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“The truth is rarely pure and  
never simple.”  
\- Oscar Wilde_

* * *

A hurricane wreaked havoc inside of her mind, mixing and matching, attempting to connect everything in its path despite its destructive nature. Her fingers ached from typing, from inputting codes and hacking. She had never come across a system as complex as this one, but it was only a matter of time before she was able to disable it completely.

It had only been a couple of days since she had managed to break down the system’s defence. She had successfully entered the computer without alerting Luciel of what she was doing. But now, she was getting familiarized with the code, trying to figure out how to disable it so she could raid the apartment for the information that was surely kept in a physical form.

They had warned her about tempering with the desk’s drawers, or with the metal cabinet, or the safe she had found hidden inside of the closet. They had all been connected to the security system inside of the apartment, linked to the bomb. Whatever Rika or V had been trying to hide inside of these walls, anything that required them to link a bomb to it to avoid being discovered, had to be worse than the things she had found within the computer.

After her phone was hacked once again, she had forced herself to block out all thoughts she had been consumed with about a normal life. Her encounter with _A_ had screwed her head back in the game, and she had spent most of the day breaking down the software. It frustrated her to no end, knowing how careful she had to be. She was side stepping and tiptoeing around a minefield. Every move from her part required her to conceal her progress.

She had worked on a loop when she had first gotten to the apartment, so she’d be able to fool Luciel when she finally cracked it.

Everything had been going according to plan, she had been making considerable progress while simultaneously reporting to her superior and talking to the members of the RFA. She had been mostly successful in locking all thoughts about the young, smart and beautiful actor who had shared his body with her, letting her take whatever she wanted and use him to acquire her own pleasure.

There had been an unspoken agreement between the two of them, to not reveal that they had gone beyond hand holding. That they had explored each other’s bodies in a way that would’ve made Jaehee lose her mind. She had given them one final caveat and left it at that, no longer willing to fight the power of the wave of feelings that crashed down upon them. The rush of his skin against hers, of his lips, his hands and the sinful sounds that escaped his mouth when he was sheltered deep inside of her had been distracting her constantly. Her body reacted on its own to the memory of him. She pushed it away with every bit of mental will she had.

Until, during a short break, she turned on the TV. She had been comfortably eating a bowl of cereal, hoping to chase all thoughts of Zen away until she could prove he wasn’t involved, when she saw the news. The rumours spreading about him sexually assaulting the idol who was supposed to work with him, the very same woman who had claimed that she had prepared the entire show, so he was able to act with her.

As a woman, she was left with an internal debate. But she knew he wasn’t capable of such a thing, he had spent the entire day avoiding making her uncomfortable, he had barely dared to touch her beyond holding her hand during most of the day. The man they were describing in the news and the man she had met created a dissonance that simply didn’t make sense.

When she logged into the chatroom, he had been in the middle of a mental breakdown, and she realized that he wasn’t capable of such a thing. His reaction was not the one of a guilty man, and she was particularly good at identifying those.

She believed him, because she knew he wasn’t guilty. With her connections to the police and the access she had to their system, she had confirmed it by watching the video footage of their interaction through the cameras on the street.

They had all done their best to comfort him, she had promised him that the idol wouldn’t get away with it. But, in truth, there was nothing she could do. She could dig dirt on her, send the information anonymously to a reliable media station, and wait for the truth to be revealed. But her job forbid her from doing so.

Then he had disappeared to go for a ride on his motorcycle and she hadn’t heard from him. Worry consumed her like never before, she didn’t know how people reacted to such accusations in this country, but if it was anything like the way the rest of the world handled it, he was in danger of being attacked. He didn’t have bodyguards, there was no one to protect him but himself.

With no leads on his location, she regretted not hacking into his phone like she had done with Jumin’s. She would’ve, at least, known where he was. Most of the access she had to their information had been social media and emails – she had hacked into every one of them. But nothing could point her towards his direction. He had faded into the wind, into the hushes of gossip and whispering of lies.

So, she forced herself to focus on her work, to make the system her bitch. The hours rushed past her, leaving the evidence of their expiration underneath her eyes. She had barely slept in the past few days, and her body was beginning to punish her for it. The only rest she had allowed herself had been power naps between sessions.

The rest she got during those hours was not entirely what she wanted. It was riddled with guilt and self-hatred for allowing herself to become affectionate of a target. He was a wildcard, she didn’t know to what extent he was involved, if the documents she had found were completely real. She wanted to believe he wasn’t, there were no mentions of his name beyond what she’d found.

She hated herself for being so weak, for letting her desires and emotions get the best of her. She had fallen prey to the pleasures of the flesh she had pushed away so long ago in an attempt to kill every last bit of humanity inside of herself.

What would happen if he found out who and what she was? What if he never did? Could she really live a lie? Could she really lie to him for however long their coinciding in life lasted? It made him no different from the rest of the lies she had told.

It made him no different from the carefully crafted complots of an agency that saw them as nothing but a means to an end. Yet she knew, somewhere deep inside a heart condemned in fear by betrayal, that she had downplayed the power and intensity of the feelings she had for him. The way her heart sped in her ribcage like a drum, the way his lips had been sweeter than any honey she had ever tasted, the way they had looked into each other’s eyes. He could live in her heart if he wanted to, for he was already the king and conqueror of her mind. His territory was limitless in the confines of her ever-expanding imagination.

She wanted to feel something different for once, and she’d found it. Now that she had, she wanted to run away to another planet. Never see herself again on the mirror, pack her madness and life in a suitcase and run. Long ago she had forgotten that habit was dessert to the suicidal. She wanted to forget ever giving in to her heart, to allow the silence to take care of her. Sadness had become vain; she was used to this sort of torture.

Everything she ever wanted personified in a man with hair touched by winter. She wanted to ask for his forgiveness, for letting herself weave him into her subterfuge. She wanted nothing and she wanted everything. In Sicily, she lost the love she had sworn to never mention again.

And in Seoul, during a mission, she had met a love that could possibly never be hers.

Morning had already greeted her, slipping through the curtains and warming her face with caresses of light. Her phone vibrated with a message from Jaehee and she picked it up to answer.

The young assistant was also worried about Zen. She couldn’t blame her; she was his most devoted fan. She loved his plays, she encouraged him. Calypso knew it was also hard for her, to see her friend and favourite person in the world be dragged through harsh stone and mud.

Their conversation ended and Calypso was left wondering if the heir to C&R International was taking the news as horribly as the rest of them. Reaching for _Boxi_ , she hacked into his phone. She read the emails he had exchanged with his father about the rumours, the many contracts and negotiations underway. He had barely been affected by it.

Her eyes widened slightly when an incoming call popped up at the top of his screen – V. She waited for him to pick up, then listened in on their conversation. During the entire time she had had access to his phone, he had never received any form of contact with the photographer.

“Hello, Jumin.” Came V’s voice through the phone. It was soft…almost sweet with a tinge of sadness laced on it.

“V, what’s up?” In contrast, Jumin’s voice was low.

He sighed. “I saw the news about Zen…I know him, Jumin. He would’ve never done something like this. We need to help him.”

“…I don’t know when you started to watch celebrity gossip, but won’t time solve all this?” Jumin asked annoyed.

“Things are not as simple for him as they are for you. I trust you’ve been nice to him, has your relationship changed in any way? Or is there still some animosity between you two?” V implied.

“This is nothing new. You and Rika have always told me to be good to Zen. I’ve repeated this many times, but I am being good to him.” Jumin stated.

“Well…you’re not exactly the most empathetic person around.” V chuckled. “I’m concerned for him.”

An almost imperceptible growl escaped Jumin. “But I thought you’d be more concerned for me as your old friend. We are both in similar situations. Why do you assume that I am fine?”

“Are you not fine?” V teasingly asked.

“Well, I am fine, of course…” Jumin faltered, hurt.

“I’m asking you to help him as a favour. God knows he’s going to need it.” V whispered.

“…well, if that’s what you want.” Jumin hesitated.

“I really appreciate it.” V thanked.

“This was getting bothersome anyways. I can borrow Luciel for a while, or just pay for outside personnel, although I don’t like that method. Things will go quiet, then.”

“Luciel is the better option. He can be trusted.”

“…but considering how heartbroken Zen is, the most annoying solution would work best, I suppose.”

“This is important to me, Jumin. Thank you.” V emphasized. “He’s my muse, after all.”

“I’m not interested in getting his ego back, so stop worrying about useless things.” Jumin argued.

“You never change, do you?” V chuckled. “I’d do it myself, but with my eye situation…”

“Thanks for calling. But…you still don’t want to go to the hospital?” There was a worry in Jumin’s voice that Calypso had never heard.

“I…it’s too late, Jumin. I’m already going blind, this _injury_ … going to the hospital won’t change much.” V explained. “I have to go, I’m still away on my trip, but I’ll be back for the party.”

“I understand. I’ll see you, then.” Jumin concluded.

“Goodbye, Jumin.” V monotoned.

The call ended and Calypso could barely believe what she had heard. She knew about the power men like them had, but she had rarely witnessed how easily they decided to make things go away. It didn’t surprise her, for she was usually the one to make inconveniences disappear. It was chilling, how with one call everything could change.

His voice had not been what she had expected. In her mind, she had pictured a man with an unquestionable authority in his voice – similar to Jumin. Instead, she was met with the voice of a broken man. It was amazing how much you could tell from the way people spoke, the words they chose, the breaking of a timbre.

She had heard noises in the background, the rustling of leaves. He was somewhere away from civilization. It made her wonder just what he was doing. Was he off on some mission for the cult?

The mention of an injury didn’t go unnoticed. Jumin knew about it, had they met in person? There was no evidence of it on his phone, no messages, no emails. No calls.

Logging into Rika’s computer, she looked for recent files with V’s name on it. She could barely believe her eyes as she read his name on a fairly recent file, it had been two days ago. Dread filled her stomach, nausea taking over. It never got easier.

It was the one kind of file she didn’t enjoy reading. Her fingers were tense as she clicked on it and the document opened before her eyes, displaying a medical and psychological report.

> _The subject’s initial reaction to the drug was successful. We were able to distort his memories, but the effect wears off at a faster rate than average. The subject’s eye injury can still be healed in order for him to regain his eyesight. We have left subjugation at the hands of our Saviour; we can only hope she has the skills to break him. We recommend a higher dosage to be able to bend him completely._

“They’re torturing him…” She whispered, her hand covering her mouth.

Her mind ran at a thousand miles per hour, reading the file on its entirety. He had entered the cult willingly, following the Saviour, but his loyalty was questioned for he seemed to hold onto the past. Every time he left; he was tortured upon his return. _Electrocuted, burnt, beaten, drowned_. Whatever they were doing to him, they were determined to erase his identity.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but she fucking did. He was tortured willingly. What had they done to him? She was used to torture, it wasn’t pleasant, it never got easier to take. No one in their right mind would walk into the very hands of the devil unless they had something motivating them to hold on.

What if Rika was being held hostage? What if he was forced to cooperate? Did V know that Luciel’s twin was also a victim to this cult? What was he trying to protect?

Her fingers typed furiously despite the pain, and she was panting by the time a beep signalled her success.

The system was deactivated.

She forced the loop through the camera footage Luciel would be getting and rushed to the living room, knowing her time was limited. She opened the safe in the closet first, finding nothing but jewels and money. A key, as well, but there was no keyhole for it. She threw it on the bed and closed the safe.

Next, she rushed to the living room, her naked feet muffled by the wooden floor, and forced the drawers for both the cabinet and the desk open. She sorted through it as fast as she could, discarding what seemed standard.

She was running on borrowed time, knowing it was only a matter of time before Luciel realized there was something off. She had to make sure she was done before he even had a chance at noticing she had hacked into it. He wouldn’t know where it was coming from. Even Calypso herself had not been able to trace the IP address of the files that constantly appeared on the computer.

It was only when she reached the last drawer that she felt her blood freeze with the sight before her. Her hand trembled as she reached for the contents. The distinctive mint colour of the eye she had seen floating around online with a name underneath it.

It was an invitation.

> _Meet the people who will love you forever.  
>  Attend the endless party. _
> 
> _Don’t you want to escape from this filthy world?  
>  This is an invitation to paradise._
> 
> _Are you suffering from your past?  
>  We will help the pain go away. _
> 
> _A world filled with pleasure…  
>  A world filled with truth…  
> A world with no tears…  
> A world with no rejections…_
> 
> _Accept the angel’s invitation._
> 
> _Magenta, where everyone is happy…_

She now had a name for the cult: _Mint Eye._

Directing her attention to the remaining documents, she realized they were blueprints for a building, a castle of sorts. The castle she had seen in the pictures, with mint green ceilings and blue curtains in the middle of a forest.

Her eyes were dark with thought, brain turning behind them like the well-oiled wheels of a clock…

And then, just like that, it slotted into place, like the final piece of a puzzle.

This was _Magenta_.

And underneath the design was the location.

She grabbed the documents and closed everything, making sure nothing seemed out of place. Returning to the bedroom, she sent everything to _A_. She had found them. She had found the cult, she had found _Mint Eye_.

Pressing a button, she stopped the loop and the entire security system returned to normal. Her hands shook as she dialled _A_ ’s code.

“401.” He greeted; his voice groggy. She must’ve woken him up.

“I found it.”

* * *


	27. Can I Be Him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard there was someone but I know he don't deserve you. If you were mine I'd never let anyone hurt you. I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me. Like it was a private show, I know you never saw me. When the lights come on and I'm on my own, will you be there to sing it again? Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories? Can I be him?
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Love is jealous and ingenious in  
self-torture in proportion as it is pure and intense.”  
\- Victor Hugo_

* * *

The city lived and thrived underneath him, the honking of cars, the ceaseless chatter, the cacophony of society and its achievements. The lives of a million people going about their day, facing whatever the time ahead kept in store for them.

From his office, he looked down on it all, his hands clasped behind his perfectly postured back. He let out a sigh, thinking how much he craved to have a glass of wine in hand. He turned his head slightly, staring at the paintings on the walls. Most of them, he had not chosen himself, except for the one that faced his desk directly.

There was no shape to it, just various strokes of shades of blues and greens, dripping down with the weight of the paint. It was messy, it was unpredictable, it was _calming_ , somehow. It was everything he kept inside and refused to let out. Everything he restrained and confined within suits and expensive fabrics, habits and refined tastes.

Turning his attention back to his window, he closed his eyes, thinking about the events that had transpired ever since he had dinner with the beguiling woman who had taken Rika’s place in the RFA. He was ashamed of letting his desires take over, of crossing a line he had never meant to cross. She had not retaliated, but she had made it clear that their relationship would remain as a friendship only. He had been disappointed, to say the least.

A knock at his door forced the thoughts of long, beautiful, tan legs away.

“Come in.” He spoke, his gaze straight ahead at what lay beyond the glass.

“Miss Eugeum is here to see you, Mr. Han.” Spoke a secretary, her voice monotone. “Should I let her in?”

Jumin turned around, nodding at the secretary. She closed the door softly, leaving him alone once again. He pulled his phone out from his jacket and placed it on top of his desk. Inspecting the surface of it, he made a mental note of everything he needed. Computer, a pen his father had gifted him, paper, a phone and a couple books he kept mostly for decoration. The pen was angled slightly, he corrected it.

Another knock at his door and a beautiful woman entered.

Calypso had stayed true to her word about forwarding CVs to him. He had been surprised at the type of contacts she had. The women in the files had been all beautiful, all extremely professional. Their resumés had been impressive, some of them had acting degrees from prestigious art schools. It made him wonder just what kind of people she associated with. The connections she had. She was knowledgeable, he had noticed when they spoke. He dared assume she had also grown up in luxury.

The woman waited until he motioned for her to sit. It was only then that she stated the motive of her visit. “I trust you’ve memorized the information I sent.”

“I have.” He stated, folding his hands on the desk. “There is no room for mistakes.”

“Of course not.” She nodded, licking her lips, as if waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she chuckled. “Very well, Mr. Han. Is there anything I should avoid saying in front of your father?”

He thought about it for a moment. “It’s a possibility he’ll be attracted to you, so please ignore his advances.”

“I will.” She replied, standing up. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yes. Have a good day, Miss Eugeum.” He bid his farewell, bowing slightly and watched as she exited the office.

Hei-Ran Eugeum was almost as beautiful as Calypso, but he assumed he was biased, given his persistent attraction to the latter. Still, he could not deny that Hei-Ran was a formidable woman, as well. He had been spending time with her, planning the approach they’d take with his father to get the marriage arrengement off his back. She was smart, interesting and beautiful, a true Korean beauty. But after so many years of watching his father be tricked by stunning women, he was always wary. Still, he knew he had to get to know the actress.

His phone vibrated and he reached for it, a notification from the RFA Messenger greeted him as he unlocked it.

The conversation he had shared with V through the phone bothered him. It had been so long since he had seen his old friend, so long since they had spent time together. He was, to some degree, the personification of more innocent and simpler times. There was an unbreakable bond between them, yet Jumin felt as if it was stretched thin, the rope holding them together about to break.

V had become so secretive, so absent. He didn’t know who he was anymore, and he didn’t have the time to find out. He took what little he got and moved forward. He would get answers once V decided it was time to grant them.

His gaze landed on the bookcase to his left and he stood up, approaching it with decisiveness in his step. He reached into it, looking for the one thing he wanted. His fingers caressed the mahogany frame gently as he grabbed it and studied it.

It was the contract he had signed as a child with V, a compensation for crashing his toy car on V’s house. The idiot had asked him to be his friend in exchange for the damage he had caused to his garden, but he had no right to judge him back then. V was in _everything_ he owned and did; his old friend was a constant presence in his life even when he wasn’t there.

He returned to his desk and logged into the chatroom, ready to share his plans for what he was about to do. Both Yoosung, who should’ve been in class, and Calypso were there.

There was still shame for the way he had behaved with her eating away at him, but he had decided to respect her wishes of forgetting what had transpired between them. He'd apologize at the party. He recounted his first meeting with Zen to them, hoping to put some things in perspective, hoping Calypso would be able to help him make sense of it. He had come to rely on her to help him interpret his emotions when he couldn’t do it on his own.

> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Anyways, although Rika is no  
>  longer here with us…_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _we still have someone who is  
>  very fond of him._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _?_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Calypso?_

A pang of shame and guilt hit him, jealousy laced underneath them, but he settled for ignoring it. He had no time for emotions, they had no place in business.

> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Calypso too,_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _but V just called me._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _He called because he got worried  
>  over Zen?_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _I thought he didn’t watch  
>  celebrity news, but he saw this one._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _That’s not like V._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _He never cares what’s going on with  
>  us. _
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _If this piece of news got into  
>  V’s ears, the news channel must have  
> been fairly powerful. _
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _I may have underestimated  
>  the situation. _
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _;;;For real?_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _A! Celebrity News is just…half  
>  crap. _
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _I will prepare materials to  
>  put a stop to all this. _
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _You’re going to attack Echo Girl?_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Yes._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Of course, I’ll make it seem as  
>  if I’m not the one behind it. _
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _And “attack” implies that this  
>  is just a childish feud. Please call it  
> “rebuttal”._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Do you think it’ll help him?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Thank you so much, Jumin._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _I’m doing this to help him._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _So, it better._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _I…I was really upset!!_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Take revenge_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _so that I can just forget about  
>  all this. _
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Even that word revenge is  
>  childish…god._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _According to V, Seven is already  
>  searching for evidence, so I should contact him  
> first._

As he continued to speak to them, he noticed the time on his watch. Cursing inwardly, he bid his farewell.

> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Look at the time._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _I have somewhere to go, so  
>  excuse me._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _It’s time for assistant Kang to come  
>  to the office, so I have to leave right now._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _??_
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _You can’t see Jaehee?_
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Nope._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _Why not?????_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Jumin…are you guilty  
>  of something?_

“I am guilty of many things, Calypso. Wanting you when I can’t have you is one of them.” He whispered to himself, closing his eyes and sighing before answering.

> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Yes, I am._
> 
> **_Yoosung:_ ** _lololol So shameless._
> 
> **_Jumin Han:_ ** _Then, please excuse me._

As soon as he exited the chatroom, he stood up and left his office, closing the door behind him. He motioned for his bodyguards to find his driver and waited in the lobby of the building for the limousine.

He watched his employees walk past him, bowing when they noticed his presence. Truth be told, he was used to crowds, to extravagant and hedonistic parties playing the anthems of rape culture loud; but he had never felt too good in them, never entirely comfortable.

A bodyguard led him to the limousine and opened the door for him.

“Where should I take you, sir?” Asked Driver Kim.

Jumin handed him a piece of paper with the address on it, and Driver Kim nodded at him, starting the engine and beginning the journey.

Sitting comfortably in the back, the heir pulled his phone out and transferred money to Luciel from his personal account. He was doing V a favour, nothing more. Even as his conscience whispered to him salaciously that it was also because he felt guilty of what he’d attempted to do. To steal Zen’s love interest from underneath his nose, to forget everything he had been taught as a child about etiquette and ethics over a pair of pretty eyes.

But she didn’t know the hell she had put him through, the fantasies his mind had conjured with the mere image of her body and the feel of her skin against his. When the lights had been killed behind them and she had almost kissed him – he had felt like a person. To have had her so close, almost kissing the skin that crawled away from him when he didn’t feel anything at all, when he repressed it so deep inside that he didn’t know how to manage his emotions anymore.

He had felt her weight in his arms, felt the scent of coffee on her skin, the crimson of her lips like the blood, red wine he enjoyed so much when the world pushed down hard on him. When the pressure broke through the cracks of his carefully crafted walls and facades. It had been everything about her, the way she had held herself, her body’s borders.

In desire, people tended to not really want to go back to the places they had already gone. Desire needed space. Where the person that is already so familiar, so known, is momentarily once again somewhat mysterious, somewhat elusive. In that space between me and the other, laid the erotic elán, laid the movement toward the other.

He worked in business; he knew that novelty was key in a consumer society. The obsoleteness of objects was programmed in advance so that it ensured the desire to replace them. And relationships were no exception to those trends. His father was living proof of it. They lived in a culture that continually lured them with the promise of something better, younger, perkier, more adventurous. Hence, people no longer divorced because they were unhappy, but because they could be happier.

Thinking about the word _monogamy_ brought a sense of comfort to him, a sense of familiarity, a sense of ownership and companionship, a sense of longing. A source of love and support. Yet, as time passed by, there had been a cultural shift implicit in the word itself. Monogamy used to mean one person for life, it now meant one person at a time.

He longed for a happy marriage – to have that which his parents never did. Marital intimacy. The sovereign antidote for lives of growing atomization.

Intimacy was “ _into-me-see_ ”. It was a contract. I am going to talk to you, my beloved, and I am going to share with you my most prized possessions, my hopes, my aspirations, my fears, my longing, my feelings, my inner life. And you, my beloved, will give me eye contact. I need to feel your empathy and validation. My significance depends on it.

One had granted him that, and one could never belong to him.

Jealousy had a built-in paradox – we need to love in order to be jealous, but if we love, we should not be jealous. And still, we are. Everybody spoke ill of jealousy. It was an inadmissible passion. People were not only forbidden to admit they were jealous, they weren’t allowed to feel that way. Jealousy was politically incorrect.

Eros did not conform to their rationalizations. Secluded from the responsibilities of everyday lie, the parallel universe of the woman in his arms had been idealized, infused with the promise of transcendence. A reality in which he could reimagine and reinvent himself.

Transgression was at the heart of human nature. There was a thrill in hiding, sneaking, being bad, being afraid of being discovered, and getting away with it. It was a powerful aphrodisiac; one she had exuded with every sway of her hips. Most people retained an urge from childhood to demonstrate their superiority above the rules, and he was no exception.

The quest for his unexplored self was a powerful theme of adulterous narrative. He had found himself drawn by the memory of the person he once was, a reverie that took him back to missed opportunities, the ones that got away, and the person he could’ve been. It was the lure of the forbidden.

However, the thirst of life triggered in his encounter with her had toppled him with an irresistible force. It had neither been planned nor sought. The unexpected boost of the desire she had awakened had galvanized him beyond the mundane, abruptly breaking the rhythm and routine of the quotidian. There was a tenacity and freedom in her that he could only envy.

And sexual alchemy had been the key in his desire for her, the erotic fission had been such that the kiss he had only imagined giving her, had been as powerful and as enchanting as hours of actual lovemaking.

At the very structure of the forbidden desire he had for her, was the fact that he could never have her. It kept him wanting. In itself, it was a desire machine. The incompleteness, the ambiguity, kept him wanting that which he couldn’t have.

His treacherous mind couldn’t help but think of the way his mother had gone with the wind when she divorced his father. Her career had been placed above everything else, above him, above her own son.

It was no surprise, then, that he had been so attracted to the almost nomadic nature of the new member of the RFA. Untameable, free, powerful, beautiful, nurturing. He had been looking for a mirage of his mother on the face of a woman that would never give him what he wanted – so the story repeated itself. She would also choose someone over him.

He had been so lost in thought that he had not noticed that he had finally arrived to his destination. Driver Kim cleared his throat.

“Mr. Han, we’re here.” He notified.

Jumin looked up and nodded. “Thank you, I’ll return shortly.”

Upon exiting the car, he breathed in fresh and clean air unlike the one in the city. He walked, his shadow trailing behind him. He was certain he looked out of place, in an expensive suit and leather shoes, walking through nature; but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Leaves crunched satisfyingly underneath the sole of his shoes, and he found a private glee in it, smiling to himself. He didn’t have to walk much before he found the person he was looking for.

He’d give his desire up, he’d move on, and he was going to make things _right_. It was time to make things right when he knew it was right. Not when it was convenient and comfortable and felt good to him, and he could wrap his brain around it. 

“God…” He heard the young actor say underneath his breath.

He silenced his footsteps as much as he could, focusing his attention on the man before him. “I thought you’d be smoking, but you don’t have anything in your mouth.”

Zen turned around, the sun blinding his vision. “What…? Who is it?”

Finally, Jumin reached him. “Me.”

“You freaked me out! How did you know I was here?” Zen laughed nervously, trying to calm his anxiety down.

“I just thought of this place.”

“Lucky.” Zen rolled his eyes, then peeked behind him. “Are you alone?”

“Driver Kim brought me here. He’s waiting in the car, so don’t worry.” He explained, coming to lean against the railing, mimicking Zen’s posture.

The man relaxed slightly, his shoulders slumping as he focused his attention back to the view before them. “Well, I’m so honoured that a corporate executive has come here to see me. You didn’t bring any bodyguards?”

“I came here secretly.” He replied, tilting his head up to look at the sky. “And if you’re honoured, then do me a favour.”

“Favour?” Shock etched into his voice. “You have a favour to ask me when my reputation’s hit rock bottom?”

Zen stayed silent for a moment, a humourless chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head.

“What is it?” He finally asked.

“My father just bought an old teacup company. Why don’t you model for them? You won’t have to worry about allergies.”

The actor looked at him as if he had grown two heads, his eyes wide and confused. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Why do you want me? There must be thousands of others dying to do it.” He sighed. “And now I’m practically known to the world as scum because of Echo Girl…you know that.”

The corners of Jumin’s lips lifted slightly, trying to hide his amusement. He didn’t find Zen suffering amusing. He had seen a glimpse of his old friend in there.

Zen narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you trying to tease me or something? If you are, then…please, not now.”

“I said I’m serious. I don’t care what Assistant Kang or the public thinks.”

“That’s because you make your living through your father and I make a living through the public.” He scoffed. “I’m serious, I’ve hit rock bottom. I don’t want to get opportunistic and get someone’s help.”

A shuddering breath escaped the actor.

“That’s how I ended up like this.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “You, Echo Girl…you both were born rich. It must be so easy to hand out opportunities, right? You’ll never understand me. We are different from birth.”

Jumin resisted the urge to whack him in the back of the head. “We are not that different.”

“What are you talking about?”

_We both want the same woman_ , Jumin thought sadly. “I don’t deny that I am where I am because of my father. But I’ve never been ashamed of growing up in a rich family. I still think that this is the path that is the most natural for me. The wisest decision. Like you naturally chose musicals, I naturally chose to manage my family company…”

Jumin gave Zen a small smile. “What?”

“And I don’t regret it. I’m sure you have no regrets on the choices you made.” He concluded.

Zen returned the gesture. “I guess you’re right…I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I misunderstood you.”

“I wasn’t trying to attack you, Hyun.” He spoke, the name he used emphasizing the meaning he wanted to convey.

“You and I…we just have different ways of expressing things. You might actually be a pretty nice guy.” He laughed softly. “Maybe I just mistook your intentions because you sounded so cold and calculative…you know, like a _douche_.”

“Interesting. You’re the first person who’s ever called me nice. I don’t know if I’m nice, per se, but I understand you not liking me. I was born with things some people only dream of.” He teased, although he sounded serious.

“You’re nice, that’s why you’re offering me this modelling job, and not the cat one because of my allergies.”

Unused to such emotional validation, Jumin retreated to his walls, trying to hold off the blush on his cheeks. “I’m doing this because V asked me to. I simply thought it’d be best for you to go back to work without too much hassle. And since you were clear about your allergies before, I’m offering another suggestion.”

“I don’t plan to take any offers unless it’s only based on my talent.” Zen resisted, looking away. “But even if V asked you to do this, you really want to use me when my reputation is crap? What if it damages your company?”

Jumin nodded. “Yes, allow me to explain.”

“Go ahead.” Zen motioned with his hand.

“My father is actually…” He sighed, mentally rolling his eyes at what he was about to reveal. “…a fairly nice man other than the fact that sometimes he makes stupid decisions because of his women.”

_I suppose I’m not that different._ He mused.

“Why are you suddenly talking about your father…?” Zen asked, confused.

Jumin ignored the question, trying to open himself up. “When I was young, there wasn’t a single person who told me off when I did something wrong. Since my father was such a powerful and influential man. I was never told _no_.”

He shifted his weight, resting his arms against the railing.

“I didn’t like being sheltered like that…so I tried to be perfect and not make any mistakes. If I was going to hear compliments any way, I wanted to be able to acknowledge them myself.”

“No wonder you’re so picky.” Zen teased.

“I suppose.” He agreed. “But…I realized this after growing up. My father will fire any employee who makes a mistake, but he will not abandon me no matter how stupid my mistake may be. Because that’s family.”

The actor hesitated. “…so, you just want to ignore my mistake? We’re not family.”

“The RFA is practically my second family. Even if you do a horrible job at modelling, I won’t turn my back on you.” He explained.

“When did you care so much about me?”

“I only trust you since V brought you in. I _do_ care, I just don’t…know how to show it. And I know that if Rika were alive, she would’ve wanted me to do this too.”

“Rika…” A faraway look crossed his eyes, probably remembering her. Jumin understood, for he had once loved Rika himself.

Jumin stood straight, fixing his tie and offering his hand for Zen to shake. “So, Zen, come work with me now. If you think you can trust me, take my hand.”

Hesitantly, Zen shook it. They stared at each other for a second before letting go.

“You always trashed your father, but he’s actually a pretty good guy, huh?” He asked, sadness on his voice. “A parent who won’t abandon you no matter what you do. I’m really jealous.”

Calypso’s words rang in Jumin’s head.

* * *

_“Family is family whether you like it or not. Running away all the time is a foolish decision.” He debated calmly. To him, it wasn’t that hard to understand._

_“Regardless of its nature, it’s a decision.”_

* * *

He would tread carefully, not wanting to offend or tarnish the newfound connection he had found with the actor. “…I don’t know much about your family, but I hope everything works out.”

“You’re worrying about me now? What’s up with you?” Zen smiled.

“Since I own so much more than you, in terms of wealth, family and even my cat.” He joked, the amusement clear in his voice.

Zen chuckled. “You can exclude the cat. Still, thank you. To be honest…the RFA is basically my family too. Seven, Yoosung, Jaehee, V, Calypso, you…even Rika.”

He nodded in understanding, waiting for him to continue.

“I knew that no matter what I did, you guys wouldn’t kick me away…I think I always considered the members a family in a way.” He looked at him playfully, mischief in his eyes. “Not you really, since I didn’t like you much, but if you weren’t in the RFA, I don’t think our organization could ever be complete.”

A comfortable silence settled between them until Zen broke it once again, perhaps venting these feelings for the first time.

“I didn’t have a family…I didn’t have people who stayed beside no matter what happened…but I always hoped to make one, a family.”

There was a hidden desire there, and Jumin knew exactly who he was thinking of as he said it. 

“But I already had one.” Zen smiled.

A warm feeling filled his chest, a brotherly union like the one he shared with V. “…I’m glad.”

“Thank you. Thank you for coming here. You let go of your ego.”

Uncomfortable with his own emotions, he nodded. “Emotions are only a waste to businessmen. And…I guess if I helped, the trip was worth it.”

“Are you going back?”

“Yes.” He said, turning away slightly.

“Dude.”

Jumin looked back and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I’ll do it, the modelling thing.”

“You mean modelling for the teacup brand. I’ll tell Assistant Kang.”

“No. What you first suggested.” Zen blurted out.

“What?”

“The one with the damn cat! I’ll do that. You don’t have to adjust things for me.” He breathed in, calming himself. “Instead…just be understanding if there are a ton of outtakes. And don’t laugh when my face gets runny! And don’t misunderstand anything. I’m not trying to make money or become popular with you on my back.”

Once again, he nodded, although he resisted the urge to laugh. Zen really was an emotional person. He envied that sometimes.

“I’m doing it because of your effort and loyalty. I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

A cheeky idea came to mind. “Oh…”

He tried really hard to hold back the grin.

“This is where I’m supposed to be touched, but unfortunately, I’ll have to break the warm and fuzzy atmosphere.”

“What?”

“We’ve already hired a model for that job. I’m sorry.”

The look on Zen’s flustered face was enough to get payback for all the times he had called him an arrogant ass.

“Re-really? Sorry for being all dramatic. Uh…I’ll do whatever. If you just trust me…” He trailed off.

“…I’m joking, we still haven’t found anyone.” He chuckled, unable to hold it back any longer.

“What?!”

He laughed. “I was joking, we’ll hire you.”

“Did you just laugh right now?” Zen chuckled, confusion etched onto his face.

“Yes.” He confessed, surprising himself. “I haven’t laughed in a long time.”

The actor laughed along. “Dude, this is a bit funny, though. It’s not as if we’re having a group meeting for Echo Girl’s victims.”

Jumin shrugged. “I’m completely fine.”

“Completely fine, yeah, right…that’s because you don’t know what's happening on the internet.” He said.

“I don’t care.”

Zen scoffed. “Still you, as always. Honestly, why do you have to be so handsome? People won’t care if you’re ugly.”

Another smile crept on his face. “I can’t help I have good genes.”

“What happened to my genes? Apparently, I have professor genes, but I hate studying.”

Jumin lifted his hand, placing it on top of Zen’s head and ruffling his hair. “Your hair colour looks like it’s the result of mutated genes. You should get a DNA test.”

Zen fought his hand off, annoyed at his boldness. “What?! Hey, I’m popular because of this colour!”

“I would’ve been more popular with that hair colour, since I have a better background.”

The actor rolled his eyes and poked him on the side. “No! This only suits a certain type of face. Besides, personality and sensibility are more important than background.”

_Perhaps._ Jumin thought to himself.

“What 20-year-old wears a suit and a vest? All you wear is pinstriped shirts.”

“I wear vests because I know a lot about suits, and I like stripes because you can still see them when you fold them.” He explained matter-of-factly.

“You’re weird.” Zen laughed. “Damn, I can’t believe I’m having fun with you. The world must be going insane.”

“Not yet.” Jumin laughed along.

“God…I hope what happened with Echo Girl is all just a dream…”

An idea popped into his mind and he placed his hand on Zen’s shoulder. He felt weird, touching someone else after being deprived of touch for so long. “Why don’t you…explain everything at the party in two days?”

“Explain…?”

“Yes.”

* * *


	28. Unsteady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mama, come here, approach, appear. Daddy, I'm alone 'cause this house don't feel like home. If you love me, don't let go. Hold on to me 'cause I'm a little unsteady. A little unsteady.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“The bond that links your true family  
is not one of blood, but of respect and joy  
in each other’s life.”  
\- Richard Bach_

* * *

The keys rattled as they hit the bottom of the bowl he kept on a side table next to the front door. Little by little, his anxiety eased away, leaving his body with a gentleness he had not expected. He had thanked his fans for coming to visit, it had felt good knowing there were people out there who believed he was innocent, that he had done nothing wrong. Especially because it was true.

Carefully, he placed the gift baskets on the floor, making sure they didn’t get ruined. If his fans had taken the time to make these things for him, the least he could do was treat them carefully. It filled his heart with warmth, knowing there were people who stood behind him, ready to protect and defend him when he couldn’t do it himself.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped his lips when he noticed the 23 missed calls from Yoosung – he’d call him back later. He logged into the chatroom, and smiled when he noticed Calypso was there, waiting for him to come back. Guilt crept on him, knowing he had just disappeared without saying much. She must’ve been worried for him.

> **_ZEN:_ ** _Calypso!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I’m sorry I wasn’t in touch.  
>  You must’ve been so worried. _
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _You’re safe, right? Oh, I’m  
>  so glad!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Of course, I am. I just went  
>  out for some fresh air._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I feel like I just made everyone  
>  worry…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _But why is it so cute that I  
>  have a bunch of missed calls from  
> Yoosung? Lolol_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _How are you feeling, handsome?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Do you feel better?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Yup!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Something good happened  
>  too. _
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I came back home…and the  
>  haters in front of the door were all  
> gone and a bunch of my fans came!_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _None of my fans had ever  
>  come to my house before…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _They tend to be pretty shy  
>  haha. But they knew I was going  
> through a hard time and came  
> over to leave chocolate, snacks,  
> cake…and even pizza coupons. _
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Oh, handsome…that’s so  
>  touching. I’m glad they did, you deserve it._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _And…I have one more piece  
>  of news. _
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I…_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _decided to model for Jumin’s  
>  cat food line._

He recounted the events to her. A mountain had been lifted from his shoulders, he finally felt like he could breathe and think clearly. Her reception made him feel validated, seen. She was actively paying attention, supporting him when he didn’t feel like he would ever get back up.

As he typed words about his family, he felt a pang in his chest. There was a part of him, after his conversation with Jumin, that longed for his family desperately.

Even so, as he spoke to the smart woman on the other side of the phone, he smiled. She filled him with such warm love and affection he felt he’d explode with the raw need for her. To keep her and protect her. To love and cherish her for as long as she allowed him to.

Feeling the dirt and dust on his hair, he ended the conversation with a promise of talking to her later, letting her know he was going to take a shower.

> **_Calypso:_ ** _Am I allowed to join in?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _haha_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _You can’t say things like that  
>  to me. I’m barely containing the  
> beast!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _lol, alright, alright! Go  
>  on, take your shower. Get some rest, okay?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Thank you, Calypso._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _I hope the rest of your day is  
>  good. I’ll call you later._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Then, I’ll get going._ _😊_

Walking to his bathroom, he stripped, letting his clothes fall to the floor. He stole a glance at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. _Damn, I look good_.

He chuckled at his own antics and turned the water on, waiting until it warmed. Once the temperature was right, he hopped in the shower, letting the pressure wash away the events from the last few hours. He was emotionally drained; he could barely believe what had happened.

His mind kept drifting to his family and he closed his eyes tightly, fighting the tears that threatened to escape him. Not everything in his family had been bad. He could still remember a time when he would rest his head on his mother’s lap, and she’d whisper sweet nothings to him so he’d fall asleep. A time when his father would sit with him and build complex puzzles, a time when they’d try solving mysteries together. A time when his brother would sneak candy for him, when they’d hide under the covers and read story books. A time when they’d watch horror movies without his parents knowing and then sleep in the same room because they were terrified.

Parents planted mental and emotional seeds in their children – seeds that grew as they did. In some families, these were seeds of love, respect and independence. But in many others, they were seeds of fear, obligation or guilt. He knew he wasn’t responsible for what had been done to him as a child, but he was responsible for taking positive steps to do something about it.

Conventional wisdom dictated that parents were empowered to control their children simply because they gave them life. And, at the core of every formerly mistreated adult – even high achievers – was a little child who felt powerless and afraid. He had thought they were perfect, so when they treated him badly, he figured he was bad. All the rationalizations he had used throughout his life had one thing in common: they served to make the unacceptable acceptable.

His feelings and needs had been subordinated to those of his parents. He had been dragged into a bottomless pit of ultimatums. His opinion had been worthless; his needs and desires irrelevant. The imbalance of power had been far too tremendous for him. When he had tried to gain control over his life, he had paid the price in guilt, frustrated rage, and a deep sense of disloyalty.

To him, trying to please his parents had been like running a race in which they were always moving the finish line. The harder and faster he ran, the farther they moved it. He had believed and internalized what his parents had said about him. The abuse had worn the protective mask of education, he had barely been able to acknowledge how destructive it was.

At times, they hadn’t even bothered to hide behind rationalizations. They had bombarded him with cruel insults, harangues, denunciations, and derogatory terms. It had seared into his self-worth like a cattle brand, leaving scars he still licked to this day. The _you are_ had become _I am_. If her mother had said he was ugly, then he truly was ugly.

As a teenager, it had significantly impaired his sense of self as a lovable, competent, valuable and attractive person. It had created negative self-fulfilling negative expectation about how he’d get along in the world. Understanding the relationship between his beliefs and his feelings had been an essential step forward in putting a stop to his self-defeating behaviour.

He was an adult; he could withstand his discomfort for the purpose of becoming his own person. He had become self-defined – become responsive instead of reactive, making clear statements about what he felt and thought, set limits on what he was and what he wasn’t willing to do. His relationship with his parents had to change, and he’d be the first one to take that step, he just didn’t know when.

He had grown as a person. So, he had to let go of the responsibility for the painful events of his childhood and put it where it belonged.

He was not responsible for the way they had made him feel unloved or unlovable. He was not responsible for their cruel comments. He was not responsible for their unhappiness. He was not responsible for their choice to not do anything about their problems. He was not responsible for the way they had led his brother to betray him and cast him aside. He was not responsible for the pain he had been through as a child.

After all this time, he could blame them for all he had gone through. But, if he was going to blame them for all the shit, he was going to blame them for all the good too. If he was going to give them credit for everything that was fucked up, he was going to give them credit for everything that was great. Because life was not so simple, black and white. His parents had tried to protect him by telling him he was ugly. They were terrified people were going to take advantage of him. He was their baby boy. He blamed them for the beauty in his life. He blamed them for the woman he now had in his life, he cherished her, because he knew what the opposite was.

He blamed them for his capacity to feel and care, because he had suffered a lot. He blamed them for his endless dedication to his job, because they had told him he would never make it. He blamed them for his appreciation of small acts of kindness, because he had been alone. If they had been the parents he had wanted, he would not be the man he was proud to be.

Life was always happening _for_ him, not _to_ him.

Exiting the shower, he changed into his pyjamas and threw himself on the bed, making sure his phone was charging before closing his eyes and taking a little nap.

His rest was dreamless, almost as if he had been dragged back and forth by the ebb and flow of the sea, housed within the soft foam that enveloped him in a cocoon. When he rose, he rose slowly, allowing his body to adjust. He walked to his kitchen, poured himself a glass of water and snacked on a peach. He returned to his bedroom and sat on the mattress, grabbing his phone.

Dialling Yoosung’s number, he had to endure his worried yelling, telling him that he had been an idiot and that he had been worried sick. Yoosung, Seven and him were always close, always relying on each other and joking around. They visited and bonded over games, over jokes and movies. Zen wanted to include Jumin into this dynamic, now that they had a tentative understanding going on.

After ending his call with Yoosung, his fingers hovered over Calypso’s contact. He knew her phone number by heart now.

He knew there was something different now. He felt different and his feelings were threatening to overflow out of him. He wanted her to feel the same way. There was a maddening yearning, an obsession for her affections. The day she visited; it had been easy for him to imagine that it could always be like that. With both of them cooking, cuddling on the couch, looking up at the stars, making love before it was time to sleep. He had not gotten the privilege of waking up next to her, but he longed for it. 

Having gone through what he had just gone through, there was an untameable determination to put it out there, to tell her what he truly felt. His index finger trembled as he swiped right on her contact, initiating the call.

The seconds before she answered, his heartbeat was akin to a hummingbird’s. His hands trembled in anticipation to the vulnerability that he would display. He hoped, he truly hoped, she felt the same way.

It was madness, almost impossible, how easily it had happened. The feeling of falling was terrifying, it could end up with him hitting the ground. She could very well be freefalling with him. But he was certain of one thing, he fell long before she did.

“Hey, handsome.” Her voice came through the phone. “Are you okay?”

He took a breath in and, then, out. There was no turning back from this now.

“Babe, I suddenly got something I want to tell you.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I…I don’t know what I’m going to do with my feelings…they’ve completely enveloped me.”

“Zen…is everything okay?” She asked, worried.

“If I get through this, I’m officially asking you to be my girlfriend.” It was done.

There was silence on the other end of the line, and he panicked.

“You don’t need to think about it now. I’m not asking you to reply right now…” He said rapidly, fearful of her rejection. “I’m just telling you in advance because you should have some time to think seriously about me. I’m really enthusiastic, right?”

She remained silent. Had he made a mistake by telling her? Did she not feel the same way? Was she not as lost in him as he was in her?

“Uhm…I’m not saying this because I think it’ll help you answer afterwards, uhm…and I don’t really think it will, but I can make a pretty good husband.” He began nervously, fiddling with the edge of his shirt. “I’ll tell you where I am all the time, I’m good looking, I’m nice, and I do what I’m told. I’m a workaholic, so I’ll never drink with my friends through the night and come home late. Besides, I’m incredibly romantic when we’re alone!”

The lack of sound on the other side of the line was deafening. It brought out every fear he had. Was she going to reject him?

“Hm…I’m getting nervous since you’re not saying anything. Is it…too early for this?”

He didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t ready for, but he had to let her know how he felt. He heard her breathe in and let out a trembling breath. Had he pushed her too far?

A giggle escaped her lips and she purred her next words. “That’s more than a good husband for me. So, do you want to grab a marriage registration form first?”

His heart skipped a beat and he broke into a grin, heat rising to his cheeks. “Oh…uhm…that’s more than fine with me! Gah…why are you doing this to me, Calypso?”

“You started!” She retorted, laughing.

“If you’re with me, we’d make a perfect family…and think about it – our baby will be so cute!” He babbled excitedly; picturing how beautiful their children would be. They both looked like models, it was only natural their babies would be just as attractive. He stopped himself. “Uhm…well, you’ll probably think it’s too early for this, but honestly…I’ve already thought about having children after seeing you. Oh, of course, marriage comes before that!”

He laughed, happy at her reception.

“Ugh…I feel like I might make you uncomfortable if I go any further. I’m a bit hyper right now…” Zen confessed, blushing. “I just showered, so I’m going to make dinner.”

A cheeky idea came to mind and he smirked playfully.

“Babe, did you take a bath yet? If you haven’t, want to do it together?” He chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“Oh, absolutely.” She replied seductively, her voice raspy. “Just tell me when and where.”

Chuckling, his imagination ran wild. “Maybe next time. I’ll make dinner. Make sure you eat something, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” She joked.

"Bye, princess."

He hung up, letting himself fall into the bed. Laughter escaped him; he could barely contain his excitement. She had said yes. It was beyond his wildest dreams.

After the call, he cooked dinner and ate in peace, working on his speech. His phone rang and he picked it up. It was Jumin, claiming he’d need to wear cat ears for the commercial. He was grateful for the relationship he now had with the heir, misplaced anger gone, but he really didn’t want to wear cat ears. He also asked about the number of reporters. It was far too late for this.

“God. Fine. Alright, let’s talk later. Bye.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his leather jacket. Sighing, he grabbed his phone again and looked through his contacts.

“Should I gather up my courage? It’s been ten years since I last saw them…” He whispered sadly to himself.

He made up his mind, dialling the number.

“Hello?” His brother’s voice came through the other side. It was like hearing a ghost.

Nervously, he croaked out. “…hello? Hey, it’s me Hyun.”

“Hyun?! Holy…are you okay?” His brother asked.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to call…how are mum and dad?”

* * *


	29. Green Jewels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came across what seems to be you in a shell. The feeling was not exactly different nor really the same. You're standing there, a face on your shame with green jewels. If we make believe and I believe you, who would be the fool? 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_"Life isn't a merry-go-round, it's a roller coaster._   
_Life won't always be smooth, it may not always be pretty, but it will be an adventure — one not to be missed."  
\- Robert Glover_

* * *

> **_Notification: the special security system has been reset.  
>  Restarting…three, two, one…  
>   
> _ **
> 
> **_Notification: Welcome to the special security system._ **

* * *

A faint sound in the background woke him up, something akin to yodelling. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, yawning as he did. After working tirelessly, he had finally allowed his body to rest. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he frowned when he noticed a red light turning on and off intermittently. Was he in an ambulance? Was he in an accident or something?

It took his mind a couple of seconds to connect the wires properly. He sat up abruptly, the synaptic communication finally gone through, and glanced at his computer. Without his glasses, he could only see the outline of the message onscreen.

He stood up and walked to his desk, putting his glasses on and reading the message. Tentatively, he pressed the button that stopped the alarm. The red lights stopped, and the yodelling was forgotten in the silence.

“Holy…” He whispered to himself as he sat down and began investigating.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The security system on Rika’s apartment had been breached, every defence broken and put down, one slight mistake could make the bomb inside go off. Looking for traces of the attacker, he cursed. They had come and gone, capricious, like a phantom. No footprints in the snow.

His fingers worked dexterously and quickly, making sure the system was secure enough so that the bomb wouldn’t explode in case Calypso decided to go into the kitchen for a midnight snack – _Oreos_ , he had come to notice. Minutes and seconds blurred into each other; his focus overly stimulated by the amount of information he was ingesting.

Finally, he secured the system enough so she could move freely inside of the apartment. Every key he pressed was like a minefield, the slightest mistake would result in the death of the new party planner. Slowly, he reached for the soda can in his desk, and winced inwardly when he noticed it was empty. His gaze drifted to the water bottle in the corner and he decided it would have to make do.

The taste was almost foreign, after having survived for so long on only junk food. He could almost hear Vanderwood chastising in the background in his mind, despite the agent being asleep on his spare bedroom. The liquid travelled pleasantly down his dry throat and he returned to the task at hand.

After days of struggling with his own mind, he was finally back on his feet. It happened every once in a while. He disappeared into the all-consuming vacuum of his depressive and anxious mind, leaving everything in an endless limbo. 

Looking in from the outside, it would’ve been easy to say he had failed. The list of things he didn’t do stretched a mile long. He had barely registered the things his superior had said, for he had not paid attention. He didn’t read any of the documents he was sent, either. He hadn’t done the dishes or cleaned – though he had Vanderwood for that. He hadn’t cooked anything either. It had been a while since he had last stepped foot in his kitchen for something other than to open the PhD Pepper filled fridge. He hadn’t worked out. He hadn’t even taken a shower.

But there were some things he didn’t do either. He had not punished himself by working more hours than he could handle. He had not cried so hard he had made himself sick. He had not laid on the floor of his bathroom for hours in a growing pool of his own snot and tears, panicked and unable to move. He had not abused himself with a running monologue of how he wasn’t good enough and would never be good enough. And he had not teared himself down for all the things on his list he had not done.

There were things he had done. He had slept properly. He had changed his clothes. He had survived the meeting with his superior. He had cleaned his desk and his glasses. He had talked to Vanderwood like a normal person. He had completed a project beautifully. He had begun working on another secret project because the focus of it kept his anxious mind at bay, and he reached out to the RFA when he needed to stave off the loneliness. And now, he had drunk water. He had done good.

He had not failed because he had gone through another day as best as he could, and he would still be there to fight some more the next day. He had not given up or given in. He had given himself love like he knew how. Every day that he was still here, fighting and breathing, was a day he won. Because for everything he hadn’t done, there was something he had done – something he had done for himself to get through the day.

Tomorrow being hard was a possibility, but he was committed to facing it with as much patience, strength, courage and love as he could muster. Because that was the most he could ask of himself.

Letting out a sigh of relief after securing the first fix, he rewarded himself by closing his eyes for a second and thinking what his next course of action should be. He had to find out who was behind the attack and contact V as soon as possible. He had to let Calypso know that the possibility of being in danger was there, he owed her that much. For now, she could walk freely around the apartment.

Reaching for his phone, he looked for V’s contact information. The last time they had talked had been over helping prove Zen’s innocence. He dialled the number and brought the phone close to his ear.

“The number you’re trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please, try again later.” The monotone computerized voice stated.

“C’mon, V, not now.” He hissed, dialling the number again, growing anxious.

He was met with the same message. It didn’t matter how many times he called; he always got the same response. Again, and again, he attempted to contact the leader of the RFA to no avail. Frustration began to fill him. Where the hell was he when he needed him? This was an _emergency_! He felt powerless and foolish. How could someone hack into the system? They had to be really good.

Much to his dismay, he’d have to make a choice without consulting V. There was no time to waste, there was a life at stake. He left a very agitated voice message and an unrewarding text telling him to get his shit together because there was an emergency situation.

Luciel didn’t know where V was or what he had been doing, but he expected to get a response when things such as these arose. He repressed his anger, rationalizing that he must’ve been busy doing something important. Maybe he was somewhere where there was no signal.

His hands trembled as he opened the RFA Messenger app and logged into the chatroom. Relief filled him when he saw Calypso was online. Did she sleep as little as he did? She was always available for them, always there in case they needed her.

The fact that he would have to deliver this information to her made his heart clench. If he closed his eyes, he could see her dancing to a Beyoncé song in her underwear in the middle of the living room, as if nobody were watching but him. Sometimes, she actually turned to the cameras and pointed at him so he’d sing along. At times, when she walked past a camera, she’d wave at him and say hello.

He had grown so used to her constant presence, to making sure she was always okay. To that stunning smile of hers that made him lose his breath. She deserved to know.

> **_707:_ ** _Calypso!!!_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’m so glad_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _you’re here in the middle of  
>  the night._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Luciel, are you okay? Is  
>  something wrong?_

He breathed in deeply, typing as fast as he could. She cared for him, even now, while her life was in danger. There was no way around it but to rip the band aid.

> **_707:_ ** _Something is wrong…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _ I’m sorry, but something major  
> is wrong. _
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _What’s wrong? Is it about  
>  Zen? About you?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _No…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _It’s more about you._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I don’t know where to start;;;_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I usually discuss things like this  
>  with V…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _so I’m a bit flustered that I  
>  can’t reach him right now T_T_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _To explain…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I know this is sudden, but  
>  there is a special security system  
> in your apartment. _
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _What do you mean? Why would  
>  I need a special security system? _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _It’s a security system I installed  
>  when Rika used to live there._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Two years ago…at the second RFA  
>  party, we had a lot of famous businessmen  
> and politicians attend. _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Rika stored private information about  
>  those guests in the apartment. And because  
> it involved a lot of famous people, there were  
> groups who tried to go after those documents…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _We didn’t tell the members this._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _V, Rika and I tried to take care of  
>  this ourselves._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Luciel, just what kind of private  
>  information are we talking about?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _In order to have very powerful  
>  people attend the party, she had  
> several private conversations with  
> the guests. Apparently, there were  
> a lot of secrets shared…_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _…are you fucking with me? W_ _hat is going on?_

He could practically feel the bite of her tongue on his skin, feel the fear on her words.

> **_707:_ ** _Once we realized there might  
>  be intruders, we decided to strengthen  
> the security at the apartment._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _The special security system was  
>  one of the suggestions…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Rika asked me to install a security  
>  system that can blow up all the stored  
> documents when an intruder gets in._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I was opposed to it, of course! It  
>  was too dangerous. But…she was  
> persistent and I had to give in, so  
> I installed it under the condition  
> that she would not stay at the  
> apartment unless something  
> happened. _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _What this special security  
>  system does is, when a person  
> who is not a member of the RFA  
> enters the apartment,_

He sent a picture of an explosion, trying to convey the words he dared not utter to her out of shame.

> **_707:_ ** _This is what happens…haha;_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Luciel…_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _…are you saying there’s a bomb  
>  inside of the apartment?!_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _…yes._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Are you fucking kidding me?!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _What the fuck?!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Why the fuck are you telling  
>  me this now?!_

He flinched at her choice of words, but there was nothing he could do. She was right to react that way; he would’ve lost his mind had he been in her place. He couldn’t blame her. Even if his heart broke at the thought of her smile fading away as she read his confession. Anyone's blood would've run cold at the news.

> **_707:_ ** _I’m so sorry…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I really have nothing to say._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _It was supposed to be a secret,  
>  but I really believed in my system. _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _It had never caused any  
>  problems until now._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I was really against installing  
>  it, but Rika kept saying it had to be  
> this powerful. So, I installed it…and  
> really…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’m so sorry to say this_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _but the algorithm_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _of this special security system_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _was just now…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _hacked._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _So, you mean the bomb might  
>  go off?!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _What do I do?!_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _It’s not that dangerous…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Right now, the security system  
>  might not work, even if an intruder  
> enters._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _But...if any of the RFA members  
>  enters_

Once again, he sent her the picture of the explosion.

> **_707:_ ** _This might happen…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _T_T_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _People’s lives were on the  
>  line, so I swear, I put my best  
> effort into making it, but I had  
> no idea…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _…someone would hack into  
>  it…_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Who in the world would do this?  
>  Am I in danger...?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I will do everything I can to  
>  make sure nothing happens to you._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I don’t know who would do it,  
>  but I will make sure to find out. _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _The person must be a very  
>  skilled hacker. Since it’s almost  
> impossible to hack this, if the  
> person didn’t approach it  
> systematically. _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Honestly…the person who  
>  I’m most suspicious of_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _ is the person who led you  
> here. _
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I swear, Luciel, I’m going to  
>  kill you when I see you...is there any way I can  
> help? _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I know, I know! You have  
>  every right to!_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Right now, what’s important  
>  to me is to restore the system so  
> that no one gets hurt. And, then,  
> my next goal is to find out who’s  
> behind this…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’m so sorry, Calypso, for involving  
>  you in this._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _What did V say? Have you  
>  spoken to him about this? _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _No…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _He’s in an area with no  
>  service…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _If Jumin or anyone reads  
>  this…please call V. _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’ll try and keep on calling  
>  him._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Alright…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Calypso, just promise me this._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Yes,_ _wh_ _at is it?_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _If you sense anything  
>  suspicious. Please tell us here._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _And…you shouldn’t leave  
>  the building. If you move, the  
> security system might accidentally  
> activate itself…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Of course, that can’t ever  
>  happen…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _We don’t know what’s  
>  going on right now, so please  
> give me some time until I can  
> solve this. I’ll do my best._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Just trust me!_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I’ve got no choice but to trust  
>  you._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I know it takes great  
>  courage to trust me when  
> there’s a threat…_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Thank you so much._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _If I work without resting,_
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’ll be able to restore the  
>  system in a day._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _If something does happen,  
>  it might be faster to just call, okay?_
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _I understand. Please, fix it.  
>  I'll be here if you need to reach me._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _I’m so sorry. I promise I  
>  will. _
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Then, I’ll get to work._
> 
> **_707:_ ** _Be safe!_

Logging off, he pressed a button on his computer.

“Vanderwood, I need your help.” He spoke, knowing his voice on the speakers he kept on the agent’s room for prank purposes would finally prove useful. “Can you please bring me some food and water?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched Vanderwood getting up from his bed through the security cameras he kept around the house. Flipping him off, the agent exited the room.

Luciel returned his attention to his screen and began working, inspecting every nook and cranny in the code. He stumbled upon the first modification and fixed it.

Frowning, he scrolled down on the entire code, noticing that there were modifications all over it, some of them barely perceptible. It would take him hours to fix it and to put up stronger defences against hacking attempts. Normally, he wouldn’t come to his begrudging housemate and maid for help, but he needed all hands on deck in case he couldn’t take the entire workload on his own. He had to put his pride aside, Calypso’s life was in danger.

Vanderwood arrived on his pyjamas, carrying a sandwich and a water bottle. “I’m surprised you asked for _actual_ food.”

“Thanks…” Replied Luciel absentmindedly as he typed commands and reached for the sandwich. “I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The security system at the apartment has been hacked. I’m on a time limit here, and if I can’t do it…Calypso…she…” The hacker could barely bear to finish the sentence, lookind down at his food.

“Your pretty girl? The one you’re stupidly in love with? What happens to her?” Vanderwood teased.

“She dies!” Luciel snapped, turning to look at him, tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. “Help me, please!”

Noticing how serious the other agent was, Vanderwood nodded. He exited the room and came back with a chair and a laptop, which he connected to Luciel’s software. Shifting around a bit, he found a comfortable position to sit on. “What you need me to do?”

He explained what he was looking for, pointing out what made it distinct and asked him to let him know in case he stumbled into anything strange.

“How did this happen?” Asked the agent after a while.

“I don’t know, but I can’t reach V. I had to tell her.” Luciel winced.

“What did she say?”

“She was freaked out, but she agreed to trust me and wait until I had things in order.” He sighed.

“Any idea who did this?”

“I don’t know yet, but I think it’s the same guy who led her to the apartment in the first place. It all smells fishy and I…don’t know what to do anymore.”

Vanderwood placed his hand on Seven’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “You’re the best in the field, we’ll fix it.”

He sighed, shaking his head and focusing back on his screen. “I hope you’re right.”

“You really care about her, huh?” The agent asked, genuine curiosity on his voice. “I didn’t think your feelings for her were that strong.”

Luciel froze. It was true that he spoke about her a lot, that he watched her constantly and that he really enjoyed talking to her when he had the time. She understood him like no one ever had. Without him noticing, she had crept into his heart and made a home there. He was guilty of putting her in danger, he had to make it right.

“Yeah, I do…”

* * *


	30. Sick Of Losing Soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell would I be without you? Brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth. 'Cause I'm sick of losing soulmates, so where do we begin? I can finally see, you're as fucked up as me, so how do we win?
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Where you used to be, there is a hole in  
the world, which I find myself constantly walking  
around in the daytime and falling in at night.  
I miss you like hell.”  
\- Edna St. Vincent Millay_

* * *

He had been in the middle of campus when he read the messages. Every vein in his body ran freezing hot, the paradox to the mixed feelings he had. His backpack fell to the floor, the contents emptying on the concrete. People turned to look at him, but he didn’t care.

The blood in his face drained from him, leaving him looking as white as the empty documents he kept on his computer when he was meant to be doing assignments. His hands trembled as he exchanged messages with both Luciel and Calypso, unable to truly believe what he was reading.

His heart was beating erratically, it was threatening to pack his life and blood, jump from his ribcage and onto the floor, where it would run away, never to be seen again. It was so hard for him to understand how Calypso remained so calm in the chat. After her initial reaction, she had calmed down considerably and decided to trust Seven.

She had even come to his defence! If he had been in her place, he would’ve been livid, he would’ve screamed at everyone. Zen’s psychic dreams always came true, he knew that, he had lived through it many times. But they had never pointed towards something as dangerous and as worrying as the situation the new party planner was in. It didn’t surprise him that Zen had screamed Seven’s ear off.

It didn’t take a rocket science degree to understand how clearly Zen cared for Calypso. He could tell his feelings ran deeper than he let on in the chatroom. Yoosung had predicted it, had known it was only a matter of time before it happened. The actor had dared greatly, had openly allowed himself to let her in.

And everything could be taken away in a matter of seconds. What the hell had they been thinking when they installed a bomb in the apartment? Why had V allowed Calypso to stay there knowing that? He had no regard for the life of an innocent, young woman.

He picked up his things from the floor and ran all the way do his dorm. The door had barely been closed and locked before he stripped and jumped into the shower, washing the day away.

Anger bubbled deep inside of him. They were at risk of losing Calypso. He had not met her in person yet, but he cared for her. He wanted to get to know her, to play more games with her, to go to conventions with her. He valued her, he loved her like a friend, having given up his crush for her. If the bomb went off and they couldn’t stop it or get to her in time…

It felt like reliving Rika’s death all over again. He didn’t want the pain; he didn’t want to lose someone else he cared about.

He changed as fast as he could and reached for his phone, calling a taxi so he could travel to Seven’s house. It had been so long since he had last visited, and he really mourned the fact that it was not because of a joyous occasion.

Joining the RFA at Rika’s behest had been one of the greatest decisions of his life. He cared for all the members deeply, they were also his family. They were supposed to take care of each other, to protect and love one another. Looking at the decisions made, he could no longer see those goals distinctly. They had become blurred in a blotch of paint. V had distanced himself from them, and now, he felt like he no longer recognized the man.

Part of him had long stopped recognizing the things he didn’t want to see, the things he was too terrified of to acknowledge.

The road to Seven’s house was mostly nature, he lived out of the city, but still close enough in case he needed to go back into civilization. Trees rushed past him as he looked out the window, counting flowers and clouds to distract himself.

Upon arriving, he paid the driver and exited the car, standing before a bunker of a house. There were barely any windows, but the walls and, even the roof, were covered with foliage and vines. It made for a brutally beautiful sight, if not a little lonely. Walls meant to keep everyone out, and the person who lived there trapped inside.

Seven had once told him that the house was designed to be self-sustainable, with geothermal...something and his very own vegetable garden. There was supposed to be a water source underneath the house. Yoosung supposed that if the world ever ended, Seven’s house would be the first place he’d go to for safety.

He approached the door and rung the doorbell.

“Please list Seven Zero Seven in binary numbers.” The door stated in a monotone and computerized voice.

Confused, Yoosung rang the doorbell again. “What in the world…Seven! Open the door!”

“You are incorrect. Did you doze off during math?” The door asked pretentiously. _Alright, that was just plain rude._

“No! I just forgot everything once I went to college!” He argued, stomping his foot on the floor.

“College-Student-Number-One-Who-Chose-The-Wrong-Major-And-Lost-Interest-In-Academics, next question.”

 _Why is this door so mean?! And who is Number Two?_ He felt his blood boil. “What? So rude!”

“Say _Welcome, master_ in Arabic.” The door commanded.

Yoosung lost his patience and started banging on the door. “Seven! Open the door!”

“Do not bang on the door. I will explode.” The voice said.

 _Another bomb?! What is wrong with everyone in the RFA?!_ “E-Explode?!”

Before he could lash at the door, it opened to reveal a very tired-looking and cranky Seven. He had bags under his eyes, breadcrumbs on his clothes.

“Seven!” He exclaimed, surprised.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear the doorbell because I was too focused.” He explained, closing his eyes and playing with the cord of his headphones.

“Why is your gate so rude?” He asked, stepping in and following Seven inside.

“Because I wrote the AI algorithm myself.” The hacker stated nonchalantly.

“Oh, my god…” He whispered. “It makes sense now.”

Seven rolled his eyes and gifted him a small smile. “Anyways, glad you’re here. Hurry up and come help me.”

Motioning with his hand, Seven began walking in the direction of his living room, and Yoosung followed him until he noticed the golden package of heaven. “Huh?! Are these Honey Buddha Chips?”

The hacker stopped and turned around, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“These are really hard to find! Do you know you have to bribe convenience store owners to get a taste of them? How did you find them?” He asked, grabbing the bag and listening to the crunching sound it made underneath his fingers.

“It’s a long and complicated story. You can have them if you want. I have boxes of them in storage.” He offered, grabbing another bag and handing it to Yoosung, leading him out of the room.

“Oh, my god…Okay, so, what do I have to do?”

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed another person in the room. The man looked at him and acknowledged him with a nod. Yoosung looked at Seven questioningly.

“That’s Vanderwood.” He stated, walking past him and guiding Yoosung to another desk. “Look at the laptop screen here.”

Yoosung leaned in, reading the words on the screen.

“You see the folder titled _Echo Girl_?” Seven asked patiently.

“…yeah, but the folder is more than 900 gigabytes?” He asked, taking a seat in front of the computer. “I guess you have a lot of videos.”

Seven repressed a mischievous smile. “I don’t have any videos.”

“Then how is this all 900 gigs?” Realization dawned on him and he paled. “Oh, my god…are they all documents?!”

Nodding, Seven placed a hand on his shoulder in what should’ve been a comforting manner. “Your job is to look through all of them and find what may be helpful to Zen’s press conference.”

“What?!” You want me to look through all of these?!”

“Yes.”

Yoosung sighed, rubbing his eyes. “…I might go blind by tomorrow, then.”

“Do you want a pair of glasses?” Seven asked.

“You know that’s not what I meant…anyway, alright. I’m glad to be of help.”

“You can’t tell anyone what you read here today, okay?” The hacker implied.

Yoosung tilted his head in confusion. “Are there things you collected illegally?”

“No, it just can’t look like Zen used us.” He clarified. “All the things in there are public, so it’s not illegal. Anyone can see it if they dig deep enough.”

“But why are there so many documents?” Yoosung whined, looking at him.

“Because a girl’s life is complicated? She seemed to really enjoy talking about herself online. Girls in the modern age are mysterious.” He ventured, not exactly sure why she shared so much.

“Never thought you’d say that…” Yoosung replied, his gaze drifting back to the computer. “Anyway, I’ll do my best.”

Seven nodded. “Okay, then, I’ll get back to work.”

Despite saying that, he stayed rooted to the same spot, his mind somewhere else. Yoosung could tell how worried and guilty his friend felt. The security breach had not been his fault, but he was dealing with the aftershock and someone’s life depended on him fixing it as soon as possible.

“I have to make sure Calypso is safe as soon as possible.” There was a reverence, a sort of affection in the way Seven uttered her name that made Yoosung suspect that he felt deeply for the young woman, too.

“Hey, Seven…” He called. “I’m hoping everything works out. I know you can do it. We all believe in you.”

A shadow crossed his face, but it disappeared as soon as it came. “Okay, thanks.”

So, Yoosung got to work, reading file after file. Archiving the ones that were useless and filtering the ones that could possibly help. He was surprised by how easily it was to organize and label them. Usually, he had problems doing even the simplest of organizing tasks. Perhaps it was because he knew how important and vital it was that he do it right.

Perhaps it was because he was too far gone in reveries of times gone and wishes lost to the grasp and powerful tightening of death – all things came to pass. Resentment and unspoken words, speeches he had never delivered to the people he both hated and loved.

Thoughts of turquoise hair and irises flooded into his mind, filling every crevice with thoughts of a man he vaguely recognized. V had always been a quiet and private person, sensitive and overly aware of the opinions of others. It had been his sensitivity that had drawn Rika to him. He remembered sitting with her on the backyard table, drinking lemonade on a hot summer day, and listening to her recounting her meeting with the man.

The light in her eyes had been enough to brighten up the darkest of caves, reflecting on the raw jewels embedded in its walls, giving the illusion of a rainbow kaleidoscope in the way she gazed up at him in excitement. At first, Yoosung had been hesitant towards him, a man whose family lived abroad. He had been so secretive, so quiet, so mysterious. There had always been a cloud of sadness and melancholy looming over him. Had that been the reason Rika had been so drawn to him?

He had already had his first therapy appointment. At first, it had been difficult, opening to a complete stranger. But he had willed himself to believe that the psychologist sitting in front of him was there to help him make sense of the thoughts in his mind, not judge him and criticize him. The standard was slowly being raised, and he had taken the first step towards a different life.

Truth be told, he had not known about Calypso’s situation and the danger she was in until morning because…

…V had visited him.

The visit had been short, and he knew he would have to discuss it on his next appointment, but it had eased his mind long enough until the man finally had time to settle down and talk to all of them. He had promised he would.

V had apologized to him. For turning away when his cousin died, for vanishing like a stain after being washed away by the ocean’s tide. He had apologized for secrets he couldn’t reveal. For leaving him when he needed him the most, when he needed to mourn beside someone who had loved her as much as he had – who understood the magic and light that had been smothered when she killed herself.

The man who had loved his cousin, his sister, had taken the blame, had allowed him to hit his chest in anger, to vent and take the burden for everything. Yoosung knew he had been unfair, but the catharsis had been a long time coming. His accusations had been childish, they had come at the level of his emotions, not his head. For he had known that if he allowed V to absolve, then there would be nothing connecting him to the rest of the RFA anymore.

He had struggled against the man’s embrace, against the comfort he provided and that Yoosung fought so desperately. He had confessed to wanting to do more for her but having been unable to.

_It’s your fault, it’s my fault, it’s your fault, it’s my fault, it’s your fault, it’s my fault._

Words repeated like a mantra that could’ve meant nothing in the end. Yoosung still had to deal with the loss, with the absence of someone he loved. And, when he found out V was going blind, he had feared losing him too, despite how much he claimed to hate him.

Then he had left, leaving as soon as he had come, with a promise to return when he was ready to face them; and making him promise that he would not tell anyone he had visited. More secrets to add to the never-ending list he seemed to possess.

And now, as he heard Seven typing away desperately on his keyboard, muttering under his breath and uncharacteristically taking gulps from a water bottle, he wondered where V was and what had possessed him to agree to install a bomb.

He was angry at V, and at Seven, but at this point in time, he had to redirect his anger into something productive instead of reacting like he had done in the past. Part of the growth he was aiming towards meant learning to control his emotions and freeing them in positive ways. No matter how hard it proved to be. He had to become a better person, he had to become smarter. Most importantly, he _wanted_ to.

Then, Calypso’s name slipped into his mind, and he was filled with fear to the very essence of his bones, in every pore and vein.

The thought of losing her, just like he had lost Rika, after she had become such an essential part of everyone’s lives, made him sick. If something happened to her, whether she was kidnapped – essentially fulfilling Zen’s psychic dream – or the bomb went off, the flames taking her, they would forever live with that. He didn’t think they would ever be able to live it down, to survive the guilt and self-hatred that would come from a life forfeit over secrets, over harangues and diatribes.

They had an obligation, all of them, to make sure nothing happened to her. She had been led into their lives accidentally, but they had decided that she had to stay. She had barely been given a choice.

It had been made for her.

She had a life outside of them, a job, possibly family. She was almost as much of a mystery as V had been when he had first met him. The few times she had talked about herself, she had given facts that revealed little things about her, but that made her all the more enigmatic.

The best example that came to mind was the time that she had told him that she had grown up surrounded by animals, told him about assisting the birth of a foal. It had told him everything and nothing at the same time. The more he got to know her, the less he knew.

She had claimed to have visited the coldest places on Earth, but she had said nothing more, leaving him confused, eager for answers and a good anecdote. Her experiences rivalled Jumin’s when it came to luxury and richness. He wondered what kind of person she was outside of the chatrooms.

And the very idea of being deprived of that, of never meeting her over a mistake, over something he had no control over, was enough to have tears gather at the corner of his eyes.

Shaking his head, he focused his attention back to the screen. He read the document, containing the information Seven had gathered.

Just how much time had Seven spent doing all of this? Yoosung would’ve never wanted to be on his shoes, to be responsible for something so important.

He read as fast as he could afford, returning to his task of organizing and labelling. Time flew past him, his mind focused on the work assigned to him.

“Hey, do you want anything to eat?” Asked a voice behind him.

Yoosung turned around on his chair, looking at Vanderwood for the first time up close. “Uh…is it time for lunch already?”

The man nodded.

“Uh…yeah.” He replied, nodding hesitantly. “Are we going to order pizza or something?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Vanderwood stated, pulling his phone out, presumably to order the food.

The college student bit his lip, trying to resist the urge to speak. In the end, his curiosity got the better of him. “Are you…Seven’s co-worker?”

“I’m his babysitter.” He replied, looking uninterested as his went through the delivery app.

Yoosung laughed. “I didn’t know that. You must have infinite patience.”

“Trust me, I know.” He muttered, finally looking up from his phone. “It’s on its way.”

“Thank you.”

Seven’s babysitter disappeared back into the hacker’s office. Yoosung could see them through the glass windows, brows furrowed in conversation.

He willed himself to do the same. He couldn’t help Calypso, but he could make sure Zen would have what he needed to prove his innocence.

Plugging his earphones into his phone, he opened a playlist and pressed play.

* * *


	31. In The Air Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh, Lord. And I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh, Lord. Can you feel it coming in the air tonight?
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“I don’t just love her, she owns me.  
Completely. I’d do anything for her.”  
\- Abbi Glines_

* * *

His brows were drawn into a frown, a worried expression written on his face as he paced around his living room, shadows past of a woman sitting next to him taunting him in his powerlessness. In every corner of his home, he could see the sea goddess. Every breeze that sneaked through his window carried the aroma of salt water. His own mind played with him, her voice calling to him from his bedroom, from his coffee-scented bedsheets – hoping that if he looked carefully enough at the wrinkles in the fabric, he’d be able to discern her silhouette.

Vibrations coming from his phone on the coffee table had long become white noise to him. It was constantly ringing, constantly vibrating with alerts of everything that was being said online about him. After his conversation with Jumin, he just had to believe things would be okay.

Sweat trickled down the skin of his back, flashbacks of his dream coming to him sporadically. He couldn’t shake the feeling off, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he tried to shrug it off like the rest of the RFA initially had. He stretched again and again, feeling his muscles flex underneath the fabric of his shirt, trying to calm himself.

It wasn’t until the characteristic sound of a notification from the RFA Messenger brought him out of his anxious pacing that he escaped the clutches of overthinking. Quickly, he grabbed the phone and read the messages. His eyes widened as Seven’s words registered on his brain.

> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Oh…Zen,_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _hello._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _Hey, handsome._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _My god._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _The security system is down?_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Yes…it currently is._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _All he’s gonna do is watch  
>  the security feed?_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _I know._
> 
> **_Calypso:_ ** _It should be enough for  
>  now, right?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _Calypso…_
> 
> **_ZEN_ ** _: Stay right there._

He threw his phone on the settee and ran to his bedroom, changing into a pair of jeans and boots that would allow him to ride his motorcycle as fast as he could to Seven’s house. He tied his hair into a bun, rushed to his living room once again, pocketed his phone and disappeared into his garage.

The engine of the motorcycle roared to life and left a deafening echo as he sped away from his home and made his way to Seven’s.

Every second counted; he was aware of it. The wind broke against his helmet, creating a hissing sound that followed him as he dodged cars. A few of them honked at him, and he apologized, but he really had no time to waste. Someone’s life was on the line, and that someone was the woman he cared for. The woman he wanted to create a future with.

Soon enough, the city was behind him. The sound of the engine, the dirt crushed beneath the wheels and the sounds of nature surrounding the area attempted to calm him, but his mind was like gasoline on an already hellish wildfire. It razed through every thought, every feeling, every nerve. There was no stopping what drove him. The maddening need to protect.

By implicit and procedural memory alone, he breezed through the forest, the foliage concealing him from the rest of the world. He knew the path well; he knew where the shortcuts were, and how to get to them.

Seven’s bunker house came into view and he skidded to a halt, stomping his foot on the ground to avoid slipping and falling. His knuckles regained their colour underneath the fingerless leather gloves that protected his hands as he let go of the handlebar.

Not even bothering to park the vehicle properly, it thudded to the ground when he strode to the front door, throwing his helmet on the floor.

He rang the doorbell and crossed his arms, looking up at the security camera on the corner above him. Narrowing his eyes, he rang again. His patience was running dangerously low. It had been years since he had had the need to punch someone, and he was certain that the military training he had was certainly still stored in the back of his mind.

Furious at the lack of response, he began banging on the door, ignoring the warnings it gave about exploding. It seemed as if Seven _loved_ installing bombs everywhere. He truly dared the door to explode, he’d have another reason to scratch the itch to melt his fist into someone’s face.

He had almost beaten the door to its hinges, and he had begun considering kicking it down, when Yoosung opened it, looking worried.

“Zen...?” He asked, his voice shy and scared at the crazed look on his panting face.

Pushing past Yoosung, he entered the house and made a beeline towards Seven’s office. He knew the place like the back of his hand. He had been here many times before.

Sitting on his desk with a stressed mask adorning his face, Seven barely registered Zen entering the room.

“What’s Calypso’s address?” He barked, trying to regain his breath and remain calm.

Seven turned to him, the chair squeaking underneath his weight. “What…?”

“Just tell me the damn address! Calypso might be in danger any minute now!” He exclaimed, fury seeping into his every pore like poison. He was trying his best to not become aggressive.

Yoosung entered the room. “Zen! You’re sweating. You didn’t run here, did you?”

“Answer me, Luciel.” He spat.

Seven looked away, biting his lip. He looked conflicted. “Uhm…you know I can’t tell you without V’s permission.”

Something hard, sharp and hot rose in his throat like fire. He blinked in disbelief. He could feel his breath stinging his throat, his heart pounding loudly against his ribcage. He was, perhaps, more furious than he had ever been in his life.

“I’m watching over her through the security cameras, so I know you’re worried, but let’s just please wait a bit more.” Seven asked nervously, playing with the cord of his headphones.

Zen narrowed his eyes, glaring at him, and stepped closer, leaning in. “So, you want me to do nothing? She might get kidnapped right now!”

Yoosung approached him from the back tentatively, placing his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. “Zen…don’t get mad.”

Seven glared back at him. “I’ll restore the system completely soon. I just need time to concentrate.”

“Seven’s been trying to call V nonstop.” Yoosung intervened, trying to defend the hacker from the actor’s wrath. “And he’s working really hard, not taking any breaks.”

“I’d really like to tell you, but I can’t without V…I’m sorry.” The hacker finalized, straightening himself on the chair.

Zen put one hand on the chair, the other one on the desk, caging Seven between his arms. Slowly, he leaned in and hissed. “You’re really strange, someone’s life might be in danger right now.”

He could also feel Seven’s anger pouring out of him. “I know that better than anyone else.”

“Guys…” Yoosung tried behind them.

That was the drop that tipped him over the edge. He pushed himself off the desk and fisted Seven’s shirt, lifting him slightly.

“So what if you know?!” He snapped. “You can’t protect her by just watching her!”

An undecipherable look crossed Seven’s face.

“Luciel, you installed that bomb. Something happened to the very same bomb you installed, and a person is in danger.” He began, his voice trembling in anger. “And she’s innocent...and so important to me!”

Slowly, he let go of the hacker’s shirt and took a step back, breathing deeply to control himself. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and looked down at his friend in suspicion as whispers of an idea came to him. 

“You’re not waiting to talk to him…because you think V’s responsible for this, do you?”

The expression on his face told him everything he needed to know. He balled his hands into fists and growled.

“If something happens to her, it’s not you or V who’ll be in the most pain…” He began, his voice dangerously low. “It’s not you or V who will be responsible.”

Seven looked away in shame.

“Everyone in the RFA will have to take responsibility and Calypso will be the victim.”

Zen knew the position Seven was in, he was trying really hard to reason with him after his outburst. He knew how stressed he was, trying to fix a mistake that could cost someone’s life. His friend was lost, looking for guidance in a leader who had abandoned them for something none of them could see nor understand. There was no king to rule over them now, and for once in his life, he was begging Seven to stop acting like a sheep.

“You have no right to do this right now.”

Silent, Seven turned his head slightly to look back at his computer. Zen let him turn around to face his desk, trying to decide whether he should beat the answer out of him or try and be patient. It was a decision that would define the kind of people they all were. The kind of risks they were willing to take to save the people they loved, the people they would willingly give their lives for.

She had been in their lives for barely a fortnight, but she had crawled inside of their hearts and made a home with a hearth there – warming every inch of their dead and cold hearts. Too long had they remained parallel to the rest of the world, to the problems that plagued each other. They had spent too much time pretending that they were fine, that their lives were perfect when they were anything but. It had to stop.

“Uhm…I don’t know if I should say something here, but I don’t think Zen is wrong.” Yoosung spoke with growing conviction. “This is out of V’s hands, Seven. Calypso is not safe right now.”

Zen watched as the hacker tensed underneath the pressure of their words.

“I think you shouldn’t expect too much from V, considering how inactive he’s been with the RFA…”

Seven mumbled something under his breath and shook his head. Not a second after, his balled fists hit the surface of the desk, the objects on top of it rattling. “I’m going crazy, argh!”

“Enough, Luciel.” Zen stated with authority etched into every syllable. “This has to stop.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?! I know she’s in danger, but I can’t go there to protect her because the system is not restored!” Seven exclaimed, finally standing up and turning to him.

“Then let me go there!” He replied, beginning to feel anger licking at his heels. "Give me the address!"

“You’re not the only one who loves her, Hyun!” Seven yelled, shoving Zen. “You’re not the only one who gives a shit about her! I don’t want anything to happen to her!”

Zen was taken aback by the hacker’s confession, momentarily stunned and paralysed. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’ve watched her every day since she got here! I’ve seen her cook, dance and workout. I’ve seen her get drunk and cry!” The hacker continued. “And it kills me that I can’t do more! It kills me that she chose _you_!”

“What?” Zen uttered, barely able to register the words. “What are you talking about?”

“She chose _you_ , idiot! And I swear to God that if you ever break her heart, I will hunt you down myself.”

Seven closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself after such liberating catharsis. Then he turned around and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, writing down the address to Rika’s apartment and handing it to Zen.

Zen had never seen Seven angry, it was a wicked contrast to his usually happy persona. It dawned on him, then, the truth. He wasn’t the only one in love with her.

Calypso was a smart and beautiful woman. He knew that better than anyone, for he had experienced her first-hand. He had never considered just how deeply she had intertwined herself into the feelings of the rest of the RFA. He had known she cared for them and supported them just as much as she did with him. For all he knew, everyone in the RFA was in love with her and he had just been too oblivious, too lost in her, to notice.

The sound of a drawer shutting loudly brought him back to the real world, just as Seven handed him a card. “You’ll need this to get inside the gated community.”

“Seven, thank you.” He whispered.

“Just…protect her, okay?” Seven said. “Please. I’ll do my best to restore the system in the meantime.”

An overwhelming love for his friend filled Zen and he pulled him into a crushing hug. Seven tensed, but welcomed the embrace, wrapping his arms around him. “Thank you.”

He let go, taking a step back and stealing a glance at Yoosung.

“Sorry for pushing you.” Zen apologized, placing his hand on his shoulder. “And thank you for supporting me.”

“It’s just like Seven said.” Yoosung smiled at him.

Seven sat back down and typed away codes on his computer. “You should get going.”

Without saying another word, the actor nodded and left the room. He stood on the doorframe for a second, thinking of Seven’s confession…even Yoosung’s. He really was lucky that she had chosen _him_ , that she had picked him above the rest.

“Seven?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“I will take care of her, I promise.” He proclaimed, leaving before he could get an answer.

Once he was out of the house, he allowed himself to breathe as freely as he could afford, anger replaced by worry. He stole a glance at his watch and cursed under his breath. Slowly, he picked up his helmet from the floor and approached the tumbled motorcycle.

He put the helmet on and revved the engine to life. Reading the address, he memorized it and accelerated, leaving the house behind. Leaving a confession that would possibly haunt him for the rest of his life – knowing there were others who wanted her as much as he did.

Knowing that she had consented to the exclusivity of his embrace. That once she agreed to be his, there would be an infinite number of unrealized lovers out there, yearning for her. That the only body he would ever pleasure would be hers. The only naked body she’d ever see, and feel inside of her, in the mirror, would be his. He’d be the only man to share her bed for as long as she wanted him to, for as long as she desired him as much as he did. The deal came with unspoken reciprocity, he belonged to her.

He rode through the streets at relatively slower pace than the one he had pushed when he had been heading towards the bunker house in the forest.

A pang in his head distracted him momentarily, and the image of his lover trapped within the grip of an unknown man flashed in his mind. He growled deep inside, like the beast he kept trapped within, and twisted his grip towards him, throttling and forcing the engine to power up the engine and go faster.

Upon arriving at the gated community, he was immediately greeted by white pillars and expensive looking housing surrounded by plants. Never in his life had he been somewhere so luxurious, and he hoped he wouldn’t get lost trying to find the apartment.

The security guard eyed him curiously, but he continued on, swiping the card against the scanner and watching the boom barrier gate lifting to let him through. He slowed down, knowing he’d get in trouble for driving fast inside of a community, and kept his eyes peeled for the building he was supposed to be looking for.

It wasn’t long until he found it. He parked his motorcycle outside, internally begged to whatever goodness remained in the world that he was allowed to do that - and entered the lobby. The receptionist scanned him up and down. For once in his life, he was grateful that he could use his looks to manipulate people.

He took off his helmet and smiled at the receptionist, handing it to her for safekeeping. She blushed and nodded, letting him through.

As soon as he was out of view, he opened the door that led to the emergency stairs and ran, two steps at a time.

His mind travelled through different scenarios, mocking and taunting him with images of blood and violence so he’d become more anxious. He didn’t dare imagine what her kidnapper planned to do to her. If he so much as laid a hand on her, he’d see white, hot rage. He would lose himself in anger.

He was panting and sweating, his muscles screaming in protest, by the time he reached the fourteenth floor. There were only two doors, so he pulled out the piece of paper once again and read the number on it. It was the apartment to his left.

Quick on his feet, he approached it and rang the doorbell next to the door. Another image of violence flashed on his mind, this time, the man was on top of her, kissing her neck with her screaming underneath him.

Zen snapped and began banging on the door. He received no response. Then, the sound of breaking glass.

Breathing deeply, he inputted the code Seven had written…

…and opened the door.

* * *


	32. Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good. Oh, Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_"And when the future hinges on the  
_ _next words that are said, don't let logic interfere,  
believe your heart instead."  
\- Phillip Robinson_

* * *

A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he studied his monitor. He was well aware that Yoosung was staring at him. He had been surprised at his own confession, at the intensity of his feelings. It had been a mistake to underestimate just how deeply he felt for Calypso. How dangerously close he had come to losing his mind over her.

He should’ve kept it a secret, allowed himself to move past it, never taking the time to dwell on the _what ifs_. It would’ve been hard, at first, but it would’ve saved him a lot of vulnerability and exposure. If there was one thing Luciel hated more than anything, it was feeling vulnerable. It made him feel out of control, it made him revert to the broken child he still was on the inside – forever looking for his other half, for the estranged brother he couldn’t let go of.

The look on Zen’s face had almost made him laugh, the pure confusion and innocence. Instead, he had been far too gone in his own anger, his own justification and defensive mind, to shut himself up. He had accused his friend, threatened him. God, he had told him that she had chosen the actor, not _him_. It had been nothing short of pathetic in his mind.

And, yet, a part of him felt liberated. He had finally accepted and admitted what he felt for her – and with the removal of that mask, he could begin to move forward. It was time to grow comfortable with rejection. He had expressed himself as honestly as he could afford, essentially polarizing the journalist so she’d be able to take her pick.

It was funny how they had all gravitated towards her. _They had truly been lonely, huh?_

Yoosung’s gaze followed him as he exited the room, walking to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked exhausted, overworked, a victim to burnout. There was a calling being whispered in his ear, a calling for freedom, to find something beyond the life he already led.

Looking for his twin crossed his mind constantly, but he didn’t want to put him in danger. His line of work was far too volatile, too risky to create any sort of emotional bond. But he had friends, and friends were a variation of emotional bonds. He supposed he was a hypocrite. 

Luciel turned on the faucet and took off his glasses. Cupping water with his hands, he washed his face to try and wake up. To freshen both his mind and body. He knew Zen was on his way to protect the new party planner, so he had allowed himself to calm down slightly.

A shadow crossed his countenance as V flashed into his mind. He had not answered any of his calls nor messages. He didn’t want to believe the leader of the RFA was involved, but there were no other suspects other than the person who had led Calypso there.

Then again, V had not been surprised at her sudden appearance in the chatroom. It had only dug further into the already deep hole of suspicions Luciel had. He had tried to turn a blind eye, his loyalty to the man overshadowing the growing inkling of something not being quite right. Their leader had merely asked them to accept her. Had he led her there himself?

Had he paid someone to hack into his system? To tamper with the code to the point in which the bomb would blow the apartment with their newest member inside of it?

Drying his face, he returned to his desk. Yoosung was back to working on finding information about Echo Girl.

He had been surprised at the fact that the college student had also confessed his feelings for Calypso to Zen, but he had decided not to pry any further. Did the rest of the members of the RFA feel something for her, too? There was no denying that she was smart and beautiful, anyone would’ve fallen for her. She had conquered their hearts and worn a crown above her head like an empress. Beside her, stood her emperor, the man who had won her over with his innocent face and chivalry. It wasn’t his fault that he owned the Holy Grail.

An alert popping up on his screen brought his attention back to the realm of consciousness. Someone had entered the apartment.

He presumed Zen was already there, protecting Calypso in case someone tried to harm her.

Battling himself, he fought against his curiosity, against knowing what kind of words they exchanged between them when they were alone. He wanted to allow himself a glimpse to imagine what it felt like to be loved by her.

His hand trembled as his index finger reached for a specific key on his keyboard, activating the microphones installed inside of the apartment.

* * *

_Baby, you understand me now?  
If sometimes you see that I’m mad._

* * *

The first sound that came through his headphones was the sound of panting and a faint laugh. What in the hell were they doing? Were they…?

It took him a moment to register the sound of broken glass crunching underneath the weight of someone’s foot. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. He didn’t want to activate the cameras and catch a glimpse of something he knew would break him.

“I…I don’t know who you are but let go of her.” Came Zen’s voice.

Alarms shot and blared his mind and he didn’t hesitate to turn all the cameras inside of the apartment on. Various windows popped up on his screen and he watched them all, one by one, trying to determine what was going on.

In one frame, he could see Zen beside the kitchen island, his posture rigid, his fists clenching and unclenching.

Luciel frowned when he realized he couldn’t see Calypso anywhere. The angles of the cameras didn’t allow him to see where she was standing, but he could see the faint shadow of her feet in a corner. Something was _wrong_. Something was _very wrong_.

“No.” Replied a vaguely familiar voice, chilling him to the bone.

“If you don’t, I’ll have to use force to protect my girl.” Zen fired back, taking a step closer to where Calypso’s shadow could be seen.

Luciel typed as fast as he could, trying to determine whether he could move the cameras slightly and cursed when he realized he couldn’t. There was nothing he could do but watch the events unfold before him. Zen had been right; he had been right all along…

“You move a single inch, and you see this switch here?” The voice asked.

There was a nagging in the back of his mind, screaming at him that the voice sounded familiar somehow. That he should’ve been able to identify the third party inside of the apartment. Anxiety began to fill him quickly, making him bite his lip and shake.

“I’ll press it. If I do…the whole place will blow up and turn into ashes!” The voice exclaimed.

Zen tensed and his expression softened slightly as he stared at something in particular – or someone.

As quickly as he could, Luciel opened the window that contained the code of the security system. True to the third party’s words, it had been modified once again, right underneath his very nose. He got to work, disabling the switch. His gaze travelled wildly back and forth between the code and the security footage.

He heard footsteps behind him and jumped when Vanderwood placed his hand on his shoulder, handing him a water bottle. The agent inspected what was happening before his screen and narrowed his eyes.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“Zen was right.” Luciel replied simply, putting the water bottle next to his monitor and resuming his attack on the modified code. “She’s in danger.”

Vanderwood’s eyes widened, but it was gone as soon as it came. He nodded, grabbed his laptop and began helping to the best of his abilities – for he wasn’t as good as him when it came to hacking. He was glad that he had not questioned him further. Their unspoken connection had come through, giving them the perfect reaction to each other.

“I already have Luciel’s device figured out. It did take some time, though.”

He snapped his head back to the monitor with the security footage and tried to determine whether he could see the intruder. His heart was beating wildly against his ribcage, akin to a machinegun going off in battle.

Who was this person? They knew him, that much was certain. It didn’t make any sense, he was a ghost, a phantom. There was barely any record of his existence and to obtain such information would take years if they didn’t know exactly what they were looking for and how to look for it.

He had made sure that it was concealed properly, the agency he worked for had also taken the necessary steps to guarantee the fact that his identity would never be revealed. Was this person someone from the agency? But, why would they target someone from the RFA in such a case? It was impossible, there was no record of him being with them. He had left no stone unturned when protecting his friends from the people he worked with.

“Installing a bomb in the house of a woman who lives on her own? What is wrong with everyone in the RFA?”

The blood running through his veins turned into frost.

“…what do you want?” Zen hissed.

* * *

_...don't you know no one alive  
can always be an angel?_

* * *

V had not answered his calls. Was he involved somehow? Was he behind the attack? What could he possibly gain from attempting to kill Calypso? He had accepted her into the association! Did she have any compromising information? V was as clean as they came, but Luciel now knew something was amiss.

“To escape this place safely with the RFA’s party planner. Of course, I’ll take all of the members away soon.”

Colour left his face as the words registered into his brain. Was this the cult he had looked into? He had barely found any information. It didn’t make sense. How did they know about the messenger app?

It dawned on him, then.

Someone inside of the RFA had to be involved. But, who?

“If you don’t want to activate the bomb, you’d better stay still. Just watch as I take _your girl_ and disappear.”

Luciel typed as fast as he could, modifying the code back to its normal state in record time. There was nothing like the looming threat of death and an unhealthy dose of adrenaline pumping through the capillary vessels in his brain to motivate his work.

“Damn it!” Zen cursed, clearly angry. “Where did you come from? What do you want?!”

Pressing enter, breathing heavily, he had been able to disarm the bomb. Even if the intruder pressed the alleged switch, it wouldn’t explode. Whatever happened now, depended entirely on Zen. Even if Luciel wanted to rush to their aid, he wouldn’t get there in time. He couldn’t leave until the system was restored, either.

The silence that came through his headphones made him turn to the footage once again. Zen remained rooted to his spot. He wished there was some way to let him know that the bomb was no longer a threat. The only threat in the room was the man holding their new member hostage.

“Are you the one who led Calypso here?” Zen questioned.

He heard the third party laughing unnaturally. It sounded wrong, distorted. It was not amusement; it was a hysterical sort of sound that crawled into the deepest crevices of his nightmares, pulling every fear and trauma to the surface. The laughter continued and with each passing second, Luciel became as tense as Zen.

Desperation began filling him, knowing he was powerless. God, he hoped Zen remembered how to fight, because he had a feeling that bringing down the intruder wouldn’t be easy. He couldn’t do anything but watch helplessly. Next to him, he could hear Vanderwood typing, restoring the system as best as he could.

* * *

_When things go wrong  
you see some bad._

* * *

Everything moved in slow motion.

For the first time, Calypso came into view, and so did the attacker’s arm. She pulled her hands down along with the appendage holding her in place, dropped her body slightly with her footwork wide, and then bowed forward, toppling her attacker right over her and into the floor.

Luciel finally got a good look at the attacker, his head spinning at the image displayed before him. The man who had attacker her had a leather jacket; hair bleached into a grey colour with pinkish edges that could’ve been red. A mask covered half of his face, and his hair the upper half, so he couldn’t identify the person underneath.

Before he could react, Calypso jumped on top of her attacker and punched him square in the face once, then twice. The man passed out and the switch fell from his hand and onto the floor. Once she was certain that the man was unconscious, she stood up and grabbed the switch, crushing it with her hand.

The pieces fell to the floor, scattering. She disappeared out of view for a second.

She knew how to fight. He had seen her work out, he knew she was physically fit, but he had never expected her to fight. Her movements had been cold, calculated, bereft of dramatics. The smoothness of her fighting technique was that of someone who was used to fighting. Something shifted inside of his mind and he frowned.

Zen remained rooted in place, a shocked expression on his face.

“Calypso…?” He asked, his voice barely above than a whisper. The microphones had barely been able to detect the sound.

Once she returned into the frame, she had something in her hand, a sort of vial and a few transparent noodles he identified as zip ties. What the hell was she doing?

“Princess?” Zen called, taking a step closer to her.

Silence. She bent down next to her attacker, blocking him from his view.

Luciel switched cameras and watched as she pulled down her attacker’s mask with gentleness she shouldn’t be offering to someone who had just threatened her life. He squinted, trying to get a good look at the face.

Putting the vial and the zip ties on the floor, she lifted the man slightly, opened the vial with her mouth and emptied its golden contents through his parted lips. With her fingers, she closed his mouth and laid him back on the floor. She grabbed the zip ties and rolled him on his back, grabbing both his arms and securing the zip tie around his joined wrists.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to Zen. He couldn’t see her expression, but the confusion on the actor’s face was impossible to deny. Zen took a step back.

Her attention returned to the man on the floor. She rolled him once again so she could see his face and tore the mask from his neck, ripping the black fabric and casting it aside. She pulled the sleeve of the leather jacket down, revealing an eye tattoo.

His heart dropped to his stomach. He recognized the symbol; he had seen it while investigating the person who had led her to the apartment.

Finally, she pushed the hair away from the man’s face softly, revealing his face. Slowly, she stood up, and looked into one of the cameras.

“Perhaps you should come get your brother, _Saeyoung_.” She spoke, her face an undecipherable mask of neutrality. No furrowing of brows, not biting of lips, no narrowing of eyes.

His mind stopped.

* * *

_But I'm just a soul  
whose intentions are good!_

* * *

He leaned in, looking at the man on the floor carefully and recognized his own face staring back at him. The only difference was the hair, the built. His brother was, like in the past, slimmer than him. Where had his brother been? Why had he attacked the RFA? Why had he hacked into the security system? Did he know Calypso?

Both Rika and V had promised to take care of him. Why the fuck was his brother on the floor of a mined apartment?

It dawned on him that she had said his birth name. He looked back at her face, staring at him through the camera. She was so beautiful… _so deadly_.

Everything he had read about her pointed towards her being a normal woman. Nothing had been out of place; nothing had been strange enough for him to dig deeper. She wasn’t who she claimed to be, that much was certain.

His mind turned into a waterfall, every bit of information crashing into his brain, shaking the surface of the water so it never remained still.

She stepped away from the camera and walked to the barstool next to the kitchen island where Zen stood unmoving, a Greek statue. Something unlocked as she reached underneath it. His eyes widened when he realized what the object she held in her hand was.

It took him a second to recognize that the gun in her hand was a Desert Eagle.

He had looked into her; he had investigated every aspect of her life. He had watched her every day since she had unexpectedly appeared in their lives. Was she working with his brother? No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have attacked her otherwise. Nothing pointed towards her being something out of the ordinary.

She screwed on a silencer on the firearm and pointed at the camera.

It went dead.

He watched as every camera inside of the living room turned to black. Just as she reached the last one, she smirked at him and pulled the trigger.

Sitting in silence, with nothing but black screens before him, shock overtook his mind and body.

Then, he leaned to the side and emptied his stomach.

* * *

_Oh, Lord,  
please don't let me be  
 **misunderstood.**_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credit for the lyrics belongs to Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood by Nina Simone.


	33. Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what we're doing; I don't know what we've done, but the fire is coming, so I think we should run.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“I used to advertise my loyalty  
and I don’t believe there is a single person  
I loved I didn’t eventually betray.”  
\- Albert Camus_

* * *

Silence ruled over the room, the weight of a powerful, crimson stare on her shoulders making her hyperaware of the consequences her actions would yield. Slowly, she lowered the gun, putting the safety on and placing it on the coffee table as a piece offering.

Her mind was a hurricane, she knew what she had just done. She had revealed that she knew more than she let on by uttering Luciel’s birth name and by pulling out a gun in front of the man who had shared her bed, the very man she dared not look in the eye for fear of what she’d find there.

As gently as she could, she lifted Saeran and laid him down on the couch. She knew exactly what he had gone through, she had read every gory detail, and she didn’t want him to suffer any longer. Her heart ached for him. He had been manipulated and used his entire life, he had never known love and comfort. When she looked at him, she could see the pain, the scars. When she looked at him, she saw a shadow of her past and torn self.

She sat down next to him and brushed his hair away from his face. Goodness knew he needed some semblance of affection, even if it came from her.

The broken parts of the cameras laid scattered across the floor. By now, she knew her feet were bleeding from stepping on glass and plastic alike. As was her heart, bleeding out for a life she could never have.

“Who are you?” Spoke Zen with a trembling whisper. She ignored it the first time. He repeated his words, this time harsher. “Who are you?”

Finally, she forced herself to come to a standing position and face him. When she turned, she could see every emotion in those ruby eyes of his. Fear, confusion, sadness. She had known that the truth would be destructive, that it would pull her head out of the water and make her gasp for air.

She hesitated, knowing that he could be involved. She didn’t want to kill him; she didn’t want to be the one to pull the trigger.

Daring greatly, she stepped closer to him, the blood underneath her feet staining the wooden floor. He stood his ground, but she could see how tense his shoulders were. He was ready to fight or flee. It pained her to know that she had been the cause of it. He had come to protect her, and he now felt the need to protect himself. _From her_. The person he had come to save.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. “I am agent #401. I was assigned here on a mission.”

Her explanation was short, but it revealed enough. She reached out with her hand; he stepped back. She could physically feel her heart breaking, her chest tightening with the need to cry. There was no one to blame but herself. The future she had tentatively envisioned with him slipped like sand through her fingers, turning to nothing.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, unsure. “Was this all staged?”

It slotted into place, then. He thought she was working with her attacker. Slowly, she shook her head.

“No.” She began, choosing her words carefully. “The attack was not my doing.”

“I’m guessing you can’t tell me much because it’s confidential.” He mused, looking away. “Right?”

A knot formed in her throat and she felt unable to undo it. She could try until her fingers bled, but it wouldn’t do any good. She couldn’t reveal anything to him. 

“I’m afraid so.” She replied as monotone as she could afford.

The contrast between their past interactions and what she now had before her was painful. She was used to this, used to disappointing people after they found out the truth, disposing of them. Why did this feel so different? Why did _he_ feel so different?

“Are you going to kill me now?” He whispered.

Those words were enough to finally break her. Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes and she cried as quietly as she could, mentally begging him to not look at her, to find out for himself if she really would kill him. _A_ had warned her, she had agreed with him. Every action had a consequence. This consequence had blurred into one with her.

As she stood before him, with the truth unveiled, she knew she could never kill him. An almost imperceptible sob escaped her lips and she flinched at her own weakness. He turned to her, then, whatever instincts he had, took over and made him approach her.

“I could never kill you, handsome.” She stated, forcing herself to look at him in the eyes. Her own reflection looked back at her.

She could see the betrayal in his eyes, the need to believe that what she said was true. It was like looking back at her past self, the blade embedded in her flesh, the fingers that dug deep into the already wounded skin. If she thought about what she had done to the woman she had loved, she realized she could never do the same to him. For once, she would rather shoot herself than harm him.

Slowly, his fingers intertwined with her own. He was fighting his own fear.

“Luciel is coming, I need to be ready.” She whispered, slowly untangling her hand, unable to endure the feel of his skin – knowing she’d be bereft of it soon. Knowing that she had touched him for the last time.

Zen went rigid. “Is he the one you’re after?”

“I don’t know.” She answered truthfully.

“I can’t…let you hurt him.” He whispered.

The promise and the threat hung in the air. Words hung above her head, but they couldn’t form. They were friends, they loved each other, they had known each other for longer than they had known her. She was the intruder here. The unauthorised access.

“I know.”

“Will you hurt him?” Zen asked.

“Not if I can help it.” She replied, forcing her expression into stone cold indifference. Donning the mask in front of him was harder than she had expected.

Recognition of some kind crossed his face and he donned an equally emotionless expression as he lifted his face slightly, a silent, dormant strength taking over. He was assessing her coldly, the action alien and foreign on him. She was used to his warmth, to his laughter, to his arrogance and his flirty comments – not the expression of a soldier looking back at her.

It settled on her spine, every hair on her body standing up. She recognized it, the steely resolve they were forced to adopt when in training.

_Boxi_ rested on a kitchen counter, and she walked to it, grabbing the device and inputting a command. She had configured it when she found out the security system had been tampered with. It had not been her doing, she had never left any trace. When she inspected it, she realized it had been the same person who had led her to the apartment. She had known Luciel was working with the system, which had led her to disguise her actions as meticulously as she could.

She stole a glance at Zen, who was studying her curiously, and tapped on the screen. A loading bar popped up, letting her know that the entirety of the security footage and the system would be deleted. There could be no evidence of her existence, of who or what she was. For the first time in her life, the person who had been granted a glimpse at her face, wouldn’t be on the floor with lifeless eyes. She had just undone Luciel's work.

He didn’t question her, for he knew he would not get the answers he wanted. Protocol dictated that she mustn’t surrender information to anyone, much less the enemy. Pain and broken skin had never been enough to break the people of the agency. They were trained to withstand the worst of human suffering, trained to choose death over betrayal.

This was her last mission, there had been no room for mistakes, and she had made many of them. She had become sloppy in the comfort of silk sheets, a pair of strong arms, ivory hair, a dashing smile and a wicked tongue.

“I’m going to change.” She announced, faltering, and motioned at her state of partial undress. After she received no response from him, she walked into the bedroom. She had been wearing nothing but a sweater and her underwear when Saeran had broken into the apartment. 

He made no move to follow her. Part of her worried over the possibility of him escaping, but she knew she’d be able to take him down before he made it to the lobby. The thought alone made her nauseous.

Leaving the door open, she changed into a pair of jeans and a simple tee-shirt. She winced at the pain that spread through her feet when she pulled the remnants of broken glass from the skin. They were mainly superficial, the lesser of all evils.

She had surrendered to him, to them. Given in to passion and desire, to comfort and intimacy. Lost control of her actions and her mind, her brain long lost to the feel of his hands against her skin. Time had finally come for her to own up to the consequences of what she’d done. She had been an agent her entire life, she knew nothing else. Her private life belonged to _A_ and Ian, to her therapist, and to what little hope she had had for a normal life.

Her superior claimed she was the best of the best, the best killer in the market. No questions asked, no mistakes made, guaranteed results. She had been assigned on this mission for that reason alone.

Yet, she had failed. Had failed herself, the entire core of her identity and the only reason she had ever known for living. It had been losing herself in a maze of the things she had never allowed herself to dream of, it had been the fear of losing him.

Fear that had become reality.

Going back to the room would mean digging her grave even deeper, pushing the double sided blade between them ruthlessly. He needed time, she knew it perfectly. Still, her heart couldn't help but crave his presence, his embrace. For the sake of what remained of her dignity, of her sanity, she couldn't do it. For the sake of her duty, she couldn’t.

Slowly, she cleaned the wounds and bandaged her feet. She had left her firearm in the room, a sure test for him, a symbol of her vulnerability. It wouldn’t be hard for him to take the weapon, enter the room and threaten her. Anyone could fire a gun, but few had the resilience to live with the guilt that came afterwards, with the hatred and pain that came with it. The never ending nightmares. Hearing the screams again and again, crimson blood that would never wash away.

Once she had properly changed her attire, she sat on the bed. There were a million things she wanted to tell him, a thousand caresses she yearned to give him, a hundred ways she wanted to repent in, and, in the end, she was left with nothing but ten seconds to gather her thoughts and come up with a plan.

Upon returning to the living room, she was surprised to find him still rooted to the same place she had left him. He had made no move to reach for the weapon, no move to protect himself. Somehow, he had known that she wouldn’t harm him. She took comfort in that.

“I’m going to need you to trust me.” She asserted, reaching for the firearm, unscrewing the silencer, and tucking them between her back and the material of her pants.

“What?” He was taken aback by her sudden bluntness.

“I know things none of you do, and for that reason, I have to be careful. I am asking you to trust me.” She clarified. “Please.”

Once, where she had seen such trust, she saw only suspicion. It burned into her skin like poison. The walls were closing in on both of them, suffocating them in the midst of a shattered utopia and a reality she dared not venture into unless she had the certainty that she wouldn’t have to pull the trigger.

“Calypso, I…” He stopped himself when he realized that perhaps that name was not her real one.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, handsome.” The term of endearment slipped from her lips and she flinched inwardly. “But believe me, I don’t mean any harm to any of the RFA members. I’m trying to protect you all.”

She had been taught several ways to torture others, even more ways to survive it. A million strategies, tactics, skills and ways to use weapons had been ingrained into her head - she knew more ways to kill than she did to heal, more ways to destroy than most military men would ever learn. She knew how to disguise herself, how to influence and acquire power, how to trick and deceive and lie.

But she didn’t know how to fix a broken heart. She didn’t know how to love freely. She didn’t know how to pick up the pieces of his heart and glue them back together because her own heart was left fragmented at their feet.

“Alright.” He finally conceded.

A small smile graced her lips. “Thank you.”

“What do you need me to do?”

She motioned to Saeran with her head. “Keep him still if he wakes up.”

Zen nodded and walked past her, the coldness of his gesture freezing her skin and pebbling every pore painfully. She let out a shaky sigh and shook her head.

As if on cue, the door opened to reveal a panting Luciel. Instantly, she reached for her gun and screwed the silencer on.

She watched Luciel do a quick scan of the room, looking for his brother. His shoulders relaxed when he saw Zen next to him. When his gaze landed on her, he tensed. She was pointing at him, the safety off. She need only pull the trigger to be rid of him.

“Who are you?” He blurted out, straightening his posture and glaring at her. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed that his hand hovered over the bulge that concealed the weapon on the left side of his hip.

“Did you know?” She switched to her mother tongue, her accent rolling off her tongue naturally.

He was surprised by the change of language, but he reciprocated. “Know what? That you were a spy?”

“No. Did you know they were torturing your brother?” She attacked, satisfied at the shock that crossed his face. “That they were drugging him?”

His face broke into a frown. “What?”

“Take one good look at your twin, Saeyoung.” She hissed. “And tell me if you knew what they were doing to him.”

“…I didn’t.” He replied, his shoulders slumping.

It was her turn to frown. “Where is V?”

“I…I don’t know. I haven’t been able to reach him.” His responses were vague.

Quickly, she raised her gun a little higher and pointed at his head. “I’m really looking for a reason not to fucking shoot you, did you know that?”

“I don’t know who you are.” He began, taking a step closer. “But you have to believe me when I tell you that I don’t know. He has kept me in the dark, and Saeran… _G_ _od_ , what did they do to him? Who did it?”

The flame that burned in his irises was enough for her to identify the truth. She lowered her gun hesitantly and put the safety on. She was also playing with fire.

“You have got a lot of explaining to do…” She warned. Ever so slowly, she turned her head a small amount to the right, attempting to look over her shoulder to the place where she knew her lover sat. “…and so do I.”

“What agency do you belong to?” He questioned.

“That’s confidential.” She retaliated, her grip on her gun tightening.

A wet chuckle escaped him. “Thought so.”

They both turned to the men on the couch, an unspoken understanding between the two agents. Zen looked at them with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

She’d have to explain it all to him if she could.

Switching back to Korean, she broke the silence. “We need to leave; this place is not safe anymore.”

“Not that it was safe to begin with.” Zen added under his breath.

The nearest safehouse wasn’t close enough to the location of Magenta. She flipped through the pages inside of her memory, trying to remember if there were any agency hideouts they could use.

“My house is safe enough.” Luciel offered, his eyes glued to his brother.

“Your house is one of the few ones whose location I don’t know.” She joked bitterly. "How naïve do you think I am?"

“You’ll have to trust me.”

She turned to Zen, unsure, and he nodded at her. She could be walking into a trap and breaking out of it would mean blood on her hands she’d rather not have. She’d have to take the risk. If she was going to get captured in order to complete her mission, she’d have to put up with it. Even if she had broken Zen’s trust, she couldn’t help but to believe him when he said it was safe.

Her fist clenched and unclenched, trying to ease her nerves. She stepped away from the room, grabbing her suitcase and packing what little she had unpacked. Guns, bullets, high heels, antidote, laptop, shirts, pants, blades, poison, a Hermés dress she loved that she did not want to ruin, and the documents she had found.

When she returned, Saeyoung was next to his brother, holding his hand.

“If you try anything funny, I’ll shoot you.” She threatened Luciel.

“I know.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

So, she left behind the apartment that had become her home, and with it, the fantasy she had been living in.

* * *


	34. I'll Be Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My past has tasted bitter for years now so I wield an iron fist. Grace is just weakness, or so I've been told. I've been cold, I've been merciless. But the blood on my hands scares me to death, maybe I'm waking up today.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“An unpredictable parent is a  
fearsome god in the eyes of a child.”  
\- Susan Forward_

* * *

His head pounded violently, a staccato of needles inside of his swelled skull. He felt ill, his stomach rolling, strong enough to make him want to clamp a hand over his mouth to prevent backlash. There was a pounding behind his eyes, ears, temples, and he swore he could feel something rupture.

Blades stabbed roughly into his neck, penetrating skin and acid leaking into his blood. He felt himself twitch at the feeling and he clutched for any shed of control he could find in hopes he would not fall shamelessly into ruin. He wanted to scream but even the thought of trying was like the glass shards that had been crushed underneath the sole of his boot. His throat closed around an animalistic cry, gagging him and keeping breath from his lungs.

Fighting and retreating was all he could think of, even if it led him down the path of death. His body was numb and tingly all at once, energy zapped from him as if some switch had been flipped. He badly needed to open his eyes, but their lack of cooperation didn’t help.

First, he moved a finger tentatively. Slowly, he went though each digit, gaining control and consciousness with each push and pull of his muscles. He was much too tired, much too sluggish.

Slowly, his eyes opened, and a choked whimper escaped his lips when the light assaulted his already sensible rods and cones. Black engulfed his vision so rapidly he had no time to fight it off, powerless in its current, in its ebbs of dark flow. It was much more forceful than he had expected, much more painful.

Memories came to him in small atoms, fragments of a conscience he had held no control over. Everything inside of him was as silent as a tomb for the first time since he could remember. The darkness almost seemed to reach out and caress him, attempting to pull him back into its murky clutches. It swept around his trembling frame, leering down upon him and mocking him as it performed its tantalizing, sensual and inescapable dance all around the abyss in which he had been cast.

It beckoned as he battled it, calling him forth.

The excruciating consequences of withdrawal surrounded him in a familiar embrace, and he struggled to push its claws away, even if it meant his skin would be ripped apart in the process. He forced his eyes open, enduring the pain of the light until he could finally see. 

His surroundings were unfamiliar, and his senses went on full alert. Breaths escaped him quickly, small pants signalling the incoming anxiety attack that would overtake him. He pushed himself up with his elbows, the duvet that had been warming him slipping down and revealing his clothes had been changed.

It was then, when he saw her. The image of her deadly and breath-taking countenance burned into his memory, pulling forth everything. His breath caught in his already wounded and dry throat. He had failed his Saviour – bested by a woman who had supposedly never fought before.

“Where am I?” He croaked out, flinching at how foreign his voice sounded.

“You’re safe, Saeran.” She spoke softly from where she rested against the wall with her arms crossed looking down at him.

“Why…?” He couldn’t formulate the question, feeling the two men who shared his mind and toyed with it struggling for control, taking over.

Whimpering, he sat up, ignoring his protesting body. He could feel the innocence of Ray struggling to combat the violence of Saeran. He could feel them slowly usurping reign of his brain.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Ray whispered, having won the battle against the sadistic monster that resided within him.

A very casual shaking of her head was given as she pushed off from the wall she leaned upon to stand up to her full height and make her way to him. She was taller than him, he noticed. “No, I won’t. I promise.”

Her words washed over him like a cooling balm over a blazing wound.

It was only then that he allowed himself to truly study her. He had been watching her from afar for so long that having her so close seemed unreal. There was an inerrant grace, regal poise, and elegance confined and treasured in her sylphlike body. The way she moved was purposeful, ethereal in a way that few people, even those who came from royal lines, were capable of. Most people could not see the difference.

Could not see the minute flaws in motion displayed by any who weren’t military trained. But he could see, he had learned to study body language in order to survive. He was aware of a lot more than average people because he had learned to know when he would be beaten and when he’d be rewarded. Most people could not see, but he could watch others stumbling about like infants.

He could see the indomitable power concealed within her toned body, the muscles that had easily broken his hold on her and incapacitated him.

She came to sit beside him, the mattress shifting underneath her weight. A warm hand came to rest on his forehead, and he flinched, preparing himself for an attack. When none came, he opened his eyes and looked at her in confusion.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her voice soft and comforting.

Ray reacted happily to her touch, leaning in. “I’m…tired.”

“That’s to be expected, the drug is leaving your body, it has been fighting it as best as it can.” She acknowledged, nodding.

“Who are you?” He asked, curiously as he pushed Saeran’s need to pull away off. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

A sad smile grazed her lips and he assumed this was not the first time she had been asked that question. “My name is Calypso Laveau.”

The surname didn’t stir his memory, so he assumed that was her real name. It was different from what he had read on her profile when he had been ordered to investigate her. In truth, he could have never understood how much she had revealed - the weight of her name, the trust she had put in him. She had tricked them all, she had also lied, she had pretended to be someone she wasn’t. 

His neck twitched and his hand shot up, grabbing her wrist roughly. She seemed unfazed by the movement, as if expecting it.

“What do you want?” Saeran hissed, his eyes narrowing. “Did you bring me here to torture me? Sorry to disappoint, gorgeous, but I’m used to it.”

The smile on her face disappeared and her brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden change of demeanour. The symptoms of his condition dawning on her as she recovered her expression and put it back into a mask of neutrality. She didn’t struggle against his hold.

“I need answers only you can give me.” She stated, the gentleness of her voice contrasting with the cold in her sharp features. Her high cheekbones tensed slightly. “I won’t torture you, but I need you to cooperate so I can guarantee your safety.”

“You’re stupider than I thought if you really think I will tell you anything.” He spat, his mind fragmenting as Ray attempted to take over. He could do nothing but stand idly and observe the conquering of his ego.

“Believe me, I know.” She replied casually as she stood up.

Her words took him by surprise and that was enough for his counterpart to seize control.

“I know that this could prove fruitless. But, I know who you are, Saeran Choi. I know your history and I know you’re a victim to people who thought it was right to use you and manipulate you.” She began. “I am not going to do anything to you. The information you will give to me will be delivered _willingly or not at all_.”

“What?” He uttered.

“I will not force you, but I am trying to prove your innocence so you can walk away from all this unscathed.”

Hope fluttered inside of his aching chest as warmth spread through it. He hated how easily he had reacted to it. His eyes filled with wonder right before they brimmed with tears. “I’ll be free?”

She had to be a police officer or something akin to it. 

“You’ll be home.” She added, pulling a chair and setting it next to the bed. Gracefully, she lowered onto it. “I promise.”

Saeran screamed at him that it was a trap, that he was a fool for trusting this woman. He had failed his mission; he was being deceived. He was an idiot, too much heart inside of him. He was nothing but a broken child looking for someone or something to call his own – the certainty that he’d never be alone again.

He should’ve been questioning her instead, he should’ve already closed and tightened his hands around that beautiful, long neck of hers. Oh, how pretty it would look with his fingers imprinted upon it. He wanted to kill her, to turn her into a bleeding and sobbing mess on the floor for cleansing the elixir away from him. For turning him away from his Saviour.

Instead, Ray ignored his every venomous caveat. He was still a child at heart, bereft of a happy ending and an innocent childhood. They’d both been born out of a need to survive, and somehow, the weakest personality of them all was the most powerful in the face of kindness.

When her hand came to rest gently atop his, he broke down in tears. Letting years of pent up exhaustion, loneliness and anguish overflow from his fractured heart. He held onto the contact with every bit of strength he had. His head lowered as his tears crashed against the soft fabric that covered him.

Hesitantly, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him comfortingly and he tensed at the touch, the shadow of abuse threatening to attack. He let himself trust, even if his mind yelled at him not to, letting his head rest on the crook of her neck as he wept, each sob wrecking his figure loudly.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She whispered again and again, her hold on him never faltering. “It wasn’t your fault.”

It felt strange to be awarded such kindness, such understanding. Especially from the person he had been commanded to hurt if necessary. The more he thought about it, the more it made him nauseous.

Just how much did she know?

He could feel Saeran clawing at every wall he had put between them. It was all a trap. He didn’t know this woman, why was he trusting her so easily? She was a liar, a trickster. He felt like a dog who had been offered food after starving for days. Seeking comfort in the arms that were open.

She wanted information in return for his freedom, there was no difference between her and the people who had used him.

Ray held on tightly, trying to fight the thoughts that were fired at him mercilessly. He was so tired of everything, so tired of fighting, so tired of being dominated, used and manipulated.

A kiss was placed at the top of his head and he sobbed even louder. He hadn’t known affection since his brother had abandoned him. He had convinced himself he deserved it, that he deserved to be abandoned because he wasn’t good enough. He would never be good enough, no matter how hard he tried. His mother had loved him desperately, and she had beaten him until he bled, because he was her _everything_.

His Saviour had always made him earn what little affection he got. It was always words of acknowledgement, never a caring touch. She had also beaten him, harangued him to tears. The ghost of her fingers as she forced his mouth open and poured the drug down his throat.

The word _home_ sounded foreign to him. There was something whimsical, powerful about it. A sense of belonging no matter what, a haven of protection and love. The only home he had ever known had been his brother, and he had left him.

The warmth she provided was the closest thing he had experimented to home in years. God knew how long it had been. The light she was leading him into, however small and fleeting it was, thrilled him beyond anything he had ever experienced. She didn’t pull away; she wasn’t disgusted by his touch. Light, warmth and summer seduced him, a promise of what she could offer. It moved through him in a steady rhythm that was much like the pulsing of his very own heart.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, his body giving in. His full weight rested on her and when he let go of his last bit of strength, they both tumbled to the ground.

She made no move to extricate herself from their embrace. Instead, she shifted them both into a more comfortable position. Whispering sweet nothings into his hair, he was lulled by the sound of her voice back into sleep. The coldness of the floor didn't even bother him.

His rest was dreamless, but it restored his body as best as possible.

By the time he woke up, he was back in his bed, the duvet over him and the lights dimmed low. Fearful, he turned to his side and stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed she was still there. Her head rested atop her forearms on the bed. She hadn’t left him.

He poked her head gently, trying to wake her up.

“Are you okay? Are you hungry?” She asked groggily as she lifted her head and covered her yawn with her hand.

Even if he wanted to say no out of shame, his stomach replied her by rumbling. A smile covered her face and she nodded.

“I’ll have them prepare something for you, okay?” She said, standing up and approaching the door. She opened it slightly and motioned someone close. She spoke in another language, one he didn’t understand nor recognize in his weakened state, then closed the door.

“Where am I?” He squeaked.

“You’re safe.” She echoed her last response.

“I understood that.” He ground out. “But where?”

For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer. She came to sit before him, folding her hands on her lap and staring into his eyes with a burning intensity that forced Ray to look away.

“You’re in a bunker outside of the city.” She informed him vaguely.

He settled for that, knowing he wouldn’t get any more information.

“Okay.”

He could feel her gaze on him. It made him feel both uncomfortable and protected at the same time. He wanted to trust her, but life had taught him otherwise.

“Are you willing to answer my questions now?”

Saeran screamed bloody mercy. He could feel the pounding in his head signalling as much. The way his heart beat wildly, a melody not yet written.

“I’ll try my best.”

A relieved breath escaped her lips and she pulled out a strange looking device. He had never seen anything like it. For a moment, he was confused by the emptiness where the beautiful woman had once occupied. He turned his head and watched curiously as she stuck the device to a wall and pressed a button on it.

“It’s going to record your statement.” She explained when she saw him eyeing it warily.

He lowered his shoulders and nodded.

As soon as she retook her place in the chair, she began questioning him.

At first, the questions didn’t seem to make sense to him. They were far too general. She asked him his name, his age. Then, she asked him about his past. He had provided the information as willingly as he could, for recounting the story forced him to relive his past. Her hand squeezed his own for reassurance.

It was only after the generalities were over with, that her face darkened, and he understood that whatever information she was after, his freedom, depended on what he told her.

Questions about Mint Eye began, and he answered only what he knew, battling Saeran inside of his head trying to keep the information and memories away from him. At first, she asked for a location.

It had taken him minutes to answer, the silence of his head, the absence of his recalling memories, rendering him useless. Empty halls, even emptier faces. Golden and mint. A throne. She had remained a silent presence, comforting him when he tensed, when his demons started winning.

Then she asked how they operated, if there were people watching over the castle. How many people he thought were in the building, how they ate, how they moved if they did at all. What was their goal. How long he had been under the influence of the drug.

Saeran trembled, attempting to break free. All it took was a movement of fingers for him to snap.

He lashed out, his fist coming to her face. Before he could even land it, she caught it, her poker face revealing nothing.

“You’re a bitch!” He screamed. “You’re a liar.”

He struggled against her, his tired body forbidding him from doing much. Slowly, she let go of his fist.

“Yes, I am.” She replied with such conviction in her voice that it shook him. “I always have been.”

“Then why should we trust you?” He spat, pushing the covers from his body, not wanting anything to do with it. With _her_.

“You don’t have to. I no more would recommend trusting me, than I would recommend you attempt to fight me.” She explained. “But I don’t think we have a choice. Neither of us do.”

“I hate you.” He whispered to nothing and everything at once. “I hate you. I _fucking_ hate you.”

“I know, baby.” She mumbled, sitting close to him on the bed despite the threat he posed. “I know.”

He fought against her as she circled him with her arms. He pushed her, scratched her, hit her. Nothing drove her away, no matter how much he tried.

And as the seconds passed, he felt himself giving in and letting Ray taking over. He was just so tired. 

“Her name is Mina.” He whispered, tears escaping. “Our Saviour's name is Mina.”

She tensed and pulled away slightly to look at him in the eye. “Thank you.”

Warmth filled him as he looked into the dark void of her eyes, beckoning him closer, to get lost in her.

“There’s someone here who wants to see you.” She stated suddenly, squeezing his arm and standing up.

“Who?”

She stayed silent for a moment, biting her lip. “Your brother.”

In that moment, his heart’s broken pieces trembled on the floor, as if they were being pulled in by a magnet.

And Saeran took over. 

* * *


	35. Nuclear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whispers in the air tell the tales of the brothers gone. Desolation, devastation. What a mess we made, when it all went wrong.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“He is my most beloved friend and my bitterest rival, my confidant and my betrayer, my sustainer and my dependent, and scariest of all, my equal.”  
\- Gregg Levoy_

* * *

The floor underneath him was cold, sending freezing lighting through his veins and into every synaptic connection in his brain, chilling the very thought process that, in different circumstances, would’ve told him that letting the woman he had fallen for, a woman he no longer knew, interact with his brother first was a bad idea.

He sat beside the door; his eyes focused on some reverie unknown to him. On the other side of the hall, was Zen. It didn’t surprise him that it had been the actor who had taken the revelation of her identity, or lack thereof, the hardest. Every message, every pretty word, every photo…it could’ve all been a lie. She had turned cold; into an emotionless shell of the woman they had all interacted with through the chatroom.

She had warned him against letting the rest of the RFA members know – asked him to trust her even though she didn’t trust him. He assumed it had something to do with the fact that he had allowed her to stay within the apartment, knowing there was a bomb inside. He could still feel it, the chilling fear that had consumed his mind and body when his birth name left her beautiful lips.

It raised the question of just how much she knew. How had she managed to acquire that information when it was unavailable to even the people of the agency? Which agency did she belong to? It couldn’t have been his, for he had looked her up in the database. Nothing closely resembling her countenance had appeared. How had she known what happened to his brother when he didn't even know? Where had she obtained the information?

His brother had been tortured, drugged, manipulated, used. She had told him that much, but she had refused to reveal more than that. He had no way of knowing who had done such terrible things to his brother. It left him feeling powerless. A guilt that burned through every pore in his body whispering and hushing things to him in the silence of the hall, dragging monsters into the darkness that called to him. 

He had entrusted his brother to both V and Rika. He had trusted them to take care of him, to provide the life he never could, to make him happy. Where had it all gone wrong? Had V stopped taking care of him after Rika’s death? Did he know what was being done to his brother? Had he been the one to do it?

The image of his brother, broken and beaten on the floor, underneath the hidden strength of Calypso’s fists had snapped something inside of him, throwing whatever caution and compartmentalization of feelings he had worked with in the past to deal with his sorrow out the window. He had barely recognized him.

The grey hair, the eye tattoo of his shoulder. It had been the cult he had looked into, but he had been unable to find further information. It had gotten to the point in which he had almost given up. If he had known what he now knew, he would’ve never given up. 

Blame and guilt bombarded him. He should’ve been there for his brother, he should’ve protected him, fought for him. He should’ve made a better attempt at trying to find him, instead of turning his back on the other half of his broken heart. He should’ve never trusted V and Rika to take care of him. He was an idiot.

Yet again, he had left his brother in the hands of someone who wasn’t him.

The voices slipped through the crack underneath the door, he could hear them talking despite not being able to make out what they were saying. He heard the sobs that escaped from his brother, and he had cried silently alongside him. He heard the tumbling of a body to the ground and pulled his phone out to check the security cameras within the room.

He saw them. His brother holding onto Calypso for dear life on the floor as he cried. She didn’t threaten him, she wasn’t hurting him. She had promised that she wouldn’t, but with the betrayal of his caregivers freshly bleeding, he had not entirely trusted her words. He had been ready to fight her, to die if it came to it, in order to defend Saeran.

When the door opened, and her head popped out, ordering him to bring some food in Spanish, he had barely managed to nod in response. He had left, retrieved some food from his fridge, warmed it up, plated it and brought it back with him. The plate laid next to him, covered by a cloche to avoid the heat slipping from it.

Zen’s head had turned to them, a shadow of grief on his face. Different emotions flashed through his eyes at the sight of her: anger, confusion, sadness, sorrow… _love_. He both envied and pitied his friend.

Luciel knew he would deal with a broken heart after everything was over, but he understood that it wouldn’t be able to compare to the heartbreak that the young actor was going through whenever his gaze landed on the deadly beauty before them.

His brother’s screams of anger rang in his ears, like shards of broken glass being pushed deeper into the canal that led to his tympanum.

Then it all reduced into wall-muffled voices.

“Did you know?” Came Zen’s voice from the other side of the hall.

His eyes moved slowly so he’d be able to look at the desolation his friend wore on his face. It didn’t matter what he said, he knew that whatever understanding managed to dawn past the poor pure anguish to let him know the why of it all and the reason for the darkness that enveloped them all, would only add another pushing of a poisoned blade to his already bleeding love.

“No.” He croaked out ruefully. “I didn’t know anything.”

Zen didn’t speak further, only nodded in response. He stood up, pulled a box of cigarettes from seemingly nowhere and mumbled something about needing fresh air.

His steps disappeared along with the sounds behind the door. He had no way of knowing what was being said, only what he could see. He watched the screen, every movement of hands, every way in which their lips opened and closed as they exchanged information.

The fact that Calypso had been protective of his brother had not gone unnoticed. She had willingly aimed a weapon at his head, ready to shoot him, if he confessed to knowing what had been done to his brother. Had he been in her place, he would’ve done the same. Although, he didn’t know if he would’ve been able to pull the trigger. It made him wonder why she cared so much. What she knew. 

Minutes ticked away on his watch, the sound echoing and bouncing on the walls. They were in a different area of his home, away from Vanderwood and Yoosung. Vanderwood had not questioned him when he left in a hurry, but he suspected that the agent knew more than he let on.

The doorknob turned and he turned his head towards it, reaching for the plate. He could hear his brother in the background, the heavy breathing that came from his burning lungs. It was funny, almost cruel, how in the near presence of his twin, he could feel everything he did. Facing him would be both painful and joyful.

Calypso stepped out of the room with a strange looking device in hand and closed the door behind her. She sat down beside him, her back sliding down the wall.

“I got what I needed.” She stated, her eyes tired. “He’s ready for you.”

“I take it you’ll leave now?” He asked, unable to hide the pain behind his words.

Her eyes widened slightly before she regained control of her emotions. “Not yet, I have some things I need to clear up.”

“Zen?”

A sad smile caressed her lips. “Yes.”

Nodding, he understood. He had never allowed himself to get close to anyone besides his friends at the RFA. Having her, the woman who had plagued his mind and desires, sitting close to him, her skin brushing against his, it was the closest he’d ever get to having her.

She was elusive, a riddle or a rhyme that no one knew. He didn’t question her intelligence. No one would’ve been able to fool them besides someone who had been trained for it their entire lives. He could also feel the loneliness radiating off her.

It was then, when he understood why she had fallen for the actor and not him. He was filled with the same afflictions that haunted her to the core. She didn’t need his loneliness, the limits that prevented him from loving people freely, the same demons she already battled against. It was the curse of agents, of those who dedicated themselves to protect others from the shadows.

They were far too similar. They would’ve been Gemini feed; too emotionally disconnected, too cold, too depressive together. They shared too much hatred and anger together. It had been no wonder why he had felt so connected to her.

Instead, she needed light. She needed someone who was optimistic, someone who was able to see through the cracks and fill them with gold. Someone who bravely wore his heart on his sleeve, who was willing to protect her, to die for her without the limitations that came from the profession of a secret agent. She needed someone to warm her, not freeze her. She needed the innocence and purity of white against the overflowing sea of red that spilled from her book. She needed fire to burn through the ice walls that surrounded her heart.

“It never gets easier for us, does it?” He asked, needing to enjoy her proximity just a little longer before he stepped into the room where his brother was.

It was selfish, but he found himself needing the strength she had provided before they found out the truth. And through the words that escaped from her mouth, he knew that the agent was not so different from the woman she had presented them with. She was underneath a thousand layers of ice and snow, a contrast to her sun-loved skin.

A humourless chuckle escaped her, the pained smile on her face somehow lighting a flame in his memory. “You just get stronger.”

“That’s not comforting.” He joked, turning his head, feeling the wall behind it, to look at her.

For the first time, she gifted him a genuine smile. He couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that overcame him when he realized these were the smiles Zen got from her easily.

“I know.” She giggled, shaking her head. “I never said it was comforting.”

He chuckled along with her, the weight upon his shoulders becoming easier to bear with her beside him. With someone who had faced the same horrors he had, if not worse.

“What will you tell him?” He inquired, feeling like a masochist. “He doesn’t know just how much you lied to him. To all of us.”

She sighed. “Neither do you.”

“Ouch, okay.” He joked, dramatically placing his hand over his heart and enjoying the amused snort that broke from her.

“I’ll tell him the truth…” She began. “…and hope he’ll forgive me.”

“For lying?” He raised an eyebrow.

“For leaving.” She corrected, turning away and losing herself in the miniscule bumps on the white wall, looking for a distraction.

It dawned on him that she would really leave. She’d complete her mission and disappear from their lives, as if she had never been there at all. As if she had not taken roots in their hearts at all. Was she stupid enough to think that she wouldn’t be missed? That she didn’t mean anything to them?

“I think…” He breathed in shakily. “…that he’ll forgive you for lying to us. You were doing your job, still are. But…if you leave, he’ll _never_ forgive you.”

She turned her attention back to him and reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. He didn’t miss the way his heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her eyes filled with emotion.

There she was. The Calypso they all knew. He had known it couldn’t have been all a lie. It had been too real to be faked. You couldn’t fake love.

“He went out for air, if you want to catch up with him.” He nudged her with his elbow.

“I should, huh?” She mumbled, unsure.

“I think it’s best if you do it now.”

She silently rose to her feet and offered her hand to him so he’d get up. He took it, enjoying the warmth of her skin and let her pull him to his feet to test her strength. Breath caught in his throat when he realized just how strong she really was. A warning not to mess with her, it was not a fight he could win. She towered over him.

“Your brother has used a dual personality as a defence mechanism in order to survive.” She explained. “One of them is submissive and the other is violent. I don’t know which one of them awaits you inside but be careful. I’m guessing he didn’t react too emotionally at me because he doesn’t know me.”

“Thank you for the warning.” He whispered, letting the guilt wash over him. He hadn’t realized just how fragmented his brother’s mind was. What had they done to him?

“My agency has people who can help him.” She debated internally for a bit before determination crossed her features. “If everything goes well, and I can prove your innocence, I can give you the information of what they did to your brother.”

“Thank you, Calypso.” He enunciated.

She pulled him into a hug and he let himself enjoy it. It would probably be the last time he saw her.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” She smiled, pulling away.

And her steps, too, faded with the sound of her retreat.

Words and potential futures flew past him faster than he could really fixate on them, but he didn’t have it in himself to care anymore. Apathy mixed strangely with the agony to make him vibrate with the need to move and a need to be still and fade into nothing.

Slowly, he kneeled to pick up the food and opened the door that contained his brother inside the room.

He stepped inside, and when his eyes landed on his twin, sitting on the bed with his head hung low, he felt the need to rush to his side and cry. Calypso’s warning echoed through his head as a reminder that there was a dangerous instability to their predicament.

The distance had ripped them apart, stripping them down piece by horrible piece before it knit them together so it could begin once again. It was a wicked reflection of himself, a shadow of a child he had sworn he could remember but could barely draw in his mind. Layer by layer, they were peeled apart, nerve by nerve, peeling them like muscle from bone.

“I prayed so I would never see you again, you know?” Came his own voice from the mouth of his brother. “It would be a reminder of how pathetic my life was.”

Luciel remained silent, trying to determine which personality was talking to him. The voice was far too monotone for him to identify. It chilled him how much it resembled his own.

“Saeran?” He tried, taking a step closer and placing the food on a nearby table.

The name made his head shoot up and the mint eyes that stared back at him froze him in place.

“Don’t call me that.” He smirked sardonically. “You don’t deserve to say that name.”

“It’s me…” He whispered, raising his hands in a peaceful manner, trying to show him he wasn’t a threat. "Your brother."

“Shut up!” Saeran yelled, grabbing his pillow and throwing it at him. "You're not my brother! You lost that right when you left!"

He understood, then, that this was _not_ the submissive personality. It was better off this way. He’d be punished for the things he had done. For trusting V and Rika to take care of the only person he loved more than he could ever love himself.

“What happened after Rika died?” He questioned, coming closer to his brother.

“Don’t you dare say her name either.” His twin hissed.

“She wouldn’t have lied to me…” He reasoned with himself. “Saeran, what happened?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” He replied, standing up and coming face to face with him. “You promised you’d protect me. You promised we’d be together forever.”

His words hit him like a slap to the face, with power enough to knock the wind right out of him.

“You lied to me. You left me in that hellhole, you abandoned me!” With every word Saeran hissed, he shoved him back, pushing against his chest until he had him caged against the wall. “You changed your name to get rid of me!”

“I had no choice…” He tried, his chest burning from the abuse.

“Liar!” His brother bellowed, balling his hand into a fist and delivering a blow to his jaw. “My saviour was right! You’re a liar! Covering lies with more lies! It never ends!”

Luciel pushed himself up with his elbows, wincing at the pain that spread through his face.

“Saeran, I don’t know what people told you, but I thought you were okay.” He groaned out in pain, rubbing his face. “I asked Rika for pictures of you laughing. She told me you were okay.”

Slowly, so as to not threaten his brother, he stood up. He wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and protect him from the world.

“Shut up!” He yelled, lunging at him.

But he was prepared this time, he opened his arms and surrounded his brother with them. Pulling him into his embrace. He endured the punches, the hits, the elbows, the scratches and the kicks.

“I don’t want to hear it!” He cried. “Let go of me!”

“I’m never letting anything happen to you again, Saeran.” He vowed, pulling his twin closer and feeling the tears fall from his eyes.

“Stop lying! You abandoned me!” He bawled. “You left me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeated, anaphora after anaphora leaving him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’m here now, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, I'm sorry.”

“You left me…” His brother finally surrendered. “You left me…”

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere now. I’m sorry.” He cried. “I love you, Saeran. I’m _so_ sorry.”

In the edge of the underworld, in the midst of the end of everything he had known, Saeyoung finally had his brother once again.

And in the death of all things, he was left with the beginning of healing.

* * *


	36. Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lover, lover, let me in, make my heart leap under your skin. Couldn't we both try to say no? Try to not reach for heaven?
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Three things cannot be long  
hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth.”  
\- Buddha_

* * *

Smoke filled his lungs, easing the anxiety he felt as he trembled against the harsh bite of the cold that settled as the sun set behind the clouds. He exhaled, watching it vanish with the wind. With the cigarette between his index and middle finger, he allowed his mind to drift anywhere but where he was.

The hours that had passed felt surreal, events that only happened in extravagant movies and novels filling his reality. He toyed with the cigarette, letting the ashes fall to the floor. His back rested against the wall of the bunker, concealed within two trees and a bush. It was the closest he could get to completely disappearing. He wanted to run away as much as he wanted answers from the person who had lied to him. His mind pulling in different directions.

It settled like an illness in his stomach, the realization that the woman who had shared his bed had not been who she claimed to be. Had she been lying all along? Had she used him as a means to an end? Had every word that came out of her inviting lips been nothing but subterfuge?

Cruel and ruthless honesty was a part of who he was, a need for the truth, for something real so powerful that it frightened him to the point in which he could barely stand to talk about it. He’d been taught that he’d always get what he wanted because of the way he looked – so he valued those who always told him the truth. Those who didn't fear the consequences of remaining loyal to themselves.

Betrayal and manipulation whispered in his ear, telling him that he had been nothing but a pawn. He struggled against it, closing his eyes so hard that it hurt, thinking of the way she had looked at him, the way she had touched him, the way she had smiled at him, the way she had spoken to him. He was trying to look for any signs of deceit, but he found none. How could he find none when he had been living in the shadow of a fabricated truth?

Was Calypso her real name? She wasn’t a journalist, that much was obvious. He had seen the ease with which she had freed herself from Saeran’s hold, the familiarity in her hands when she held the firearm. Her stance, her movements, her words, the calculating and cold look of her eyes.

When he had looked at her, he had seen a stranger.

It was a painful contrast, the woman she had turned into with a weapon in her hands, and the woman who had so willingly loved him. He could barely reconcile it. The strength in her body juxtaposed against the softness of her skin. The scars he had seen, yet dared not question. The haunted shadow that crossed her gaze at times, but that disappeared as soon as it was summoned.

Was she a police officer? A soldier? A mercenary? A spy?

As he stood, he lived, experimenting the rupture of their fantasy and utopia as if he carried the death of them both. There had always been a look about the ones that caused disturbances in the natural flow of things. People that were the tools of chaos, harbingers of disorder, hedonism and anarchy.

He had possessed no way of knowing that she had been the embodiment of chaos, born to bring as much trouble back as it was thrown at her. His lungs burned with smoke and anger, with black fumes and loss. Of betrayals and a love he didn’t want to let go of because he knew it would destroy him.

Zen stared up into the distance, at the sky blotted by trees and the other lands distanced on the horizon, seeing but not watching as his mind rambled on.

The sound of the front door opening brought upon him a violent landing and awakening from his cognition. He let the cigarette fall from his hand, the small embers spreading and fading as it connected with the dirt. Crushing the butt of it underneath the sole of his shoe, he turned his head slightly to sneak a glance at whoever had come out.

His breathing stopped when he recognized the svelte of his lover. Ropes after ropes of strength concealed within a white sleeveless halter top, black culottes and equally dark ankle boots. Her skin pebbled as soon as the wind crashed against her and she brought her hands to her arms, rubbing them to create some heat.

Resisting the urge to go to her, he tried to make himself invisible within the trees, quieting his breathing as much as he could so as to not alert her of his presence.

The gravel crunched underneath her steps as she walked to the fence that prevented a deadly fall from the height that separated them from the rest of the world. She was an unknown woman to him, wandering the space he occupied at night. Where did she go when she went quiet?

Her hair moved with the air, like a siren moving in the tide and crashing of the water. She reminded him of a sorceress in Yoosung’s game – able to exist in two places at once.

The fingers of both her hands slowly gripped over the chilled stone railing, the curves of her rings pressing against the surface and pushing back into her skin, grounding her as she locked her grip. From where he stood, he could see it all. Her jaw set instantly and the muscles ground together in her alertness to the tingling tint of the air accosting her, eyes instantly snapping outward with burning intensity, but her face was a mask of terrifying neutrality.

_She_ was terrifying…and strange and beautiful.

Regret covered her countenance like a veil, her brows furrowed when her eyes searched for something or _someone_ around her.

He had also been trained to blend in with his surroundings, it didn’t surprise him that she wasn’t able to find him. To think she was looking for someone else would be a mistake, and he knew it. She was looking for him, only him. It was bittersweet.

Throughout his life, he had encountered different types of people and because of it, he was certain of one thing: women like her could not be contained. There was a blazing inferno inside of her and a frost that turned anything to ice.

The time to face her was dawning on him, and he wondered what would happen once he stepped into the decaying light of day to let her gaze upon him with the characteristic fire of her ebony eyes, the iris and the pupil blending together in the void of darkness that lured everything in with the melody of a thousand burning black suns screaming together in victory.

Her muscles flexed as she pushed herself against the railing.

Did she bend her reflection in the mirror, turning one face into another with the ability to bring entire kingdoms to their ruin? Did she forget her own name when she played into the role of the woman she was supposed to be? Did she convince everyone she was a goddess just like she had done with him? Did she make people get on their knees daily with the influence of her divinity? Did her eyes close like doors to conceal her emotions whenever someone got too close for comfort? Did she bathe in milk and honey until she forgot their names and faces? Did she cover the evidence of their love with expensive fragrances?

Was every person who had loved and wanted her a slave to the back of her head like he was? Forever damned to try and catch her when she was as unpredictable and untameable as the seas her namesake was birthed in? Did she come and go, so capricious?

Pushing himself off the wall, he noticed when she realized he was there. Still, she didn’t turn around, instead choosing to focus on the landscape ahead of her. He approached her and came to stand beside her, close enough to feel her energy colliding against his in a seductive dance; but far enough to feel the emotional distance between them.

They both remained silent for a moment, their hands side by side, never touching. He could tell she wanted to reach out as much as he did, from the way her pinkie inched closer to his, but never giving in to the perpendicular desire that drove them.

It was her, who broke the loudness of their stillness.

“I’m sorry for lying to you.” She whispered, looking down and closing her eyes, her thick eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.

He bit back the need to lash out, knowing it wouldn’t do any of them good. Betrayal ran deep for a person as loyal as him, someone who wasn’t easily swayed. Instead, he gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white and waited for her to continue.

“I will face the consequences of what I’m about to do, but I have to do it.” Finally, she lifted her head and turned to look at him.

From the corner of his eye, he could tell there was a consuming intensity in her expression.

“What do you have to do, princess?” He finally relented; his voice tinged with sadness at the term of endearment.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” She answered truthfully. “I owe you that much.”

“You owe me nothing.” He retaliated, flinching inwardly at how harsh he sounded. Closing his eyes, he breathed in, calming himself, then spoke again. “You were doing your job, right?”

Hurt flashed across her face, but she nodded in understanding. “Yes, I was.”

Turning to look at her would kill him. He didn’t want to look at her and face the reality that she had been nothing but a fantasy, a lie. He wouldn’t be able to take the truth if everything she had said and done had been a lie.

Instead, he decided he’d work his way through it. Deal with the smaller lies so he could be numb by the time he asked the one question he didn’t want the answer to.

“Is Calypso your real name?” He began, surprising her.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly at his reception. “It is. Calypso Laveau.”

He mouthed her name, tasting the syllables with his tongue, then nodded. His hold on the railing loosened and colour returned to his knuckles.

“Are you a police officer? A mercenary? A spy of sorts?” He continued.

She bit her lip, probably debating with herself. “I’m a special agent. I work for an independent, international agency formally known as PIIA. Within select circles, we’re known as the Erinyes.”

The symbolism didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Can I know the general details of your mission?” He questioned, certain that she caught on to the underlying message within his query.

“My mission is to find the men who went missing trying to uncover the mystery of Rika’s death...and to find out what happened to her.” She replied, every word that slipped from her lips seemingly causing her pain.

He frowned, narrowing his eyes but refusing to look at her. “She committed suicide, there’s no mystery to that.”

“That’s what I thought at first.” She added, cavalier.

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I could endanger you if I tell you, are you sure you want to know?”

He picked up the warning tone on her voice instantly, but he was tired of secrets and lies.

“I am.”

Silence reigned before she spoke again. “Saeran attempted to kidnap me under strict orders of a cult named Mint Eye. Both V and Luciel warned me not to mess with the information contained within the apartment but…”

A mirthless laugh escaped her.

“…my job was to do exactly that. Inside, I found information linking her to the cult. I don’t know if she’s still alive…but she was involved somehow. The cult has taken an interest in the RFA, going as far as wanting to recruit all of you.”

He tensed, fear licking at his heels at the words that slipped from her beautiful burgundy lips.

“I found files, reports detailing the things they did to those who took part in it. They drugged them and forced them to take part in…some sort of hedonistic ritual. I didn’t understand why they wanted all of you until I realized they were in the process of recruiting both…V and me.”

Something clicked inside of his mind, choosing to believe her, and things started to make sense. Why V was always missing, why he was so cryptic…and so willing to let Calypso into the RFA. Did he allow her in because he was involved? What was V doing in a cult?

“Saeran provided the last bit of information I needed. I know where they are, and I know they are keeping the men I’m supposed to be looking for in there.” She finished. “All that’s left is…storming the place and proving your innocence.”

“My innocence?” He blurted out, shocked.

“When the agency assigned this mission to me, they labelled the members of the RFA as the prime subjects. Right now, as far as they’re concerned, you’re all involved.”

He closed his eyes once again. Letting the weight of the truth wash over him like a burning balm. It was too much information, too many things to digest. Still, they paled in comparison to the one thing that truly mattered to him.

Gathering his courage, he finally turned to look at her in the eyes. Relief crossed her gaze when their eyes met. Her lips parted slightly, invitingly.

Steeling his expression, despite the fact that he knew his eyes said it all, the pain and the grief displayed for her to see, he took a step closer. For the first time, he saw the nervousness that her body language screamed, the trembling of her hands.

“Was it even real?” He shot the deadly arrow, there was no going back now.

Her eyes widened, and she struggled to find her words.

“Was everything you said to me real? Every word, every touch, every kiss, was it even real, Calypso?”

She bit her lip, looking down. “I did it to gather information at first.”

The realization of what she said felt like a blow to the stomach and he struggled to not break down and cry. She looked up, staring at him in the eyes with resolve.

“You were trusting, an easy target for me to influence into telling me what I wanted.” She continued, not missing a beat.

“How could you do that to me?” He whispered, his voice growing increasingly louder until it turned into a snarl. “To _me_?”

Her body trembled.

“Because it was my job!” She screamed, tears finally flowing freely from her eyes. “And I tried so hard not to fall for you! I really tried! But everything you did chipped away at every fucking wall I ever put up! And I hate you for doing this to me! It should’ve been easy! I should’ve been able to leave without caring what destruction I left behind!”

She panted, the power of her catharsis draining her. She shoved him with enough force to make him take a step back, but not enough to hurt him.

“And, instead, I fell for you! I don’t know what do to with these feelings! I am terrified of feeling this way because I already lost everything once! And I want you, so, so bad. I want things I have never wanted, all because of you! You, you, you, _you_!”

He couldn’t help the amused expression that crossed his features. Joy began filling him, little by little, when he received confirmation that it had been real.

She glared at him when she noticed his reaction.

Then, she crashed her lips into his, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her body. It took him a moment to process what was going on, but when he recovered his senses, he kissed her back eagerly. His hands held onto her hips tightly as he lifted her up and sat her down on the railing, never breaking the contact.

Their kiss grew passionate, a battle of teeth and tongues and biting words that could never express what their actions could. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed herself closer to him, the friction of their bodies chasing the cold away.

“Fuck me.” She whispered in his ear, pulling away to look at him with a lust so powerful that it tethered his soul to hers.

Her wish was his command.

* * *


	37. I Miss You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We play so dirty in the dark 'cause we are living worlds apart.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

**_WARNING:_ _explicit sexual content ahead_**

* * *

_“The course of true love never  
did run smooth.”  
\- William Shakespeare_

* * *

She had said _fuck me_ so that she might not say _I love you_.

Her resolve had crumbled as soon as she had stared into his eyes, every emotion she had concealed reflected back at her like still water on a clear pond. It had been the crimson blood of his eyes, the life experienced in them. Blood was thicker than water, but you could drown in either.

Every argument she had thrown his way, he had taken it. It had amazed her how calmly, if not restrainedly, he had taken her answers. It had been the questioning of her feelings for him that had broken it. The brokenness of his gaze had felt heavy over her heart, her trembling hands itching to reach for him, to touch and comfort. She hadn’t been able to think. She hadn’t been able to breathe.

So, she filled her lungs with his kisses instead.

Kissed him until she forgot that their worlds had collided with a force so destructive it had tarnished the very essence of what they had tried to create. Touched his body until she could convince herself that the past and the future had merged to meet them there. Inhaled him in until she forgot the smell of wine blood overflowing from the corners of her mind like a glass that had fallen to the side.

A haze covered her ability to recall, to the consciousness of her surroundings. She let him guide her inside of the bunker, let the warmth of his grip carry her to a haven where they’d freely lose themselves in each other. A place where she could show him the things she dared not utter for fear of making them as real as the beating of his heart against her chest.

As he kissed her back, his tongue drawing a moan from her lips, she was certain he sensed it too. It was a blaze inside of him, melting the ice of her walls, his frame making her blood boil and steam escape from her mouth, the taste of his sweetness putting her on the edge of a fall she’d willingly take.

Before she was able to determine what was happening, he had her pressed against the wall, his strong and sturdy body hovering her lithe one as he deepened the kiss with need. She gasped into his mouth, her nails dragging down his chest over and over, forcing the material of his shirt to move every time.

Zen dragged his hands up across her body, feeling her skin through the fabric. He broke the kiss, panting as he pulled the halter top over her head and stared in amazement at the dark red shade of her brassiere. He pushed it down, angling her skin higher for his view. For his sampling. Then his mouth descended, swirling his tongue expertly.

She rubbed her legs together, trying to ease the desire that was surely pooling. He gave the other one his full attention, biting until she cried out, then licking the sting away. Like a wire that jolted, electrifying her every time he bit down.

For a moment he pulled away, his eyes searching for hers desperately, waiting for her consent to advance further. In lieu of an answer, she pulled her pants down, tossing them somewhere in the spare room he had locked them into and pulling her shoes off. Her greedy hands tugged at his shirt and he complied, finally gifting her the view of his naked chest.

“Are you…?” He whispered, his hands coming to rest at her hips as he stared down at her, the cold wall against her back.

Carefully, teasingly, she grabbed his hand and led him right between her legs to her sex. He could feel the wetness and the heat from her on his fingertips. The moment she pushed him tight to her cunt, she groaned. “Just fuck me, handsome.”

Everything tingled as his hand rubbed her sopping wet. Her body was moving whilst her head was trying to catch up.

She watched as he pressed her tight against the wall and kneeled, the lustful desire in his eyes keeping her rooted. Her lips parted slightly as he pulled one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her to him. Keenly moving the fabric of her knickers to the side, he sunk a finger between her labia and watched with awe as her cunt closed in around him, trapping him into her warm inners.

“Bloody hell…” Calypso whispered, her eyes rolling backwards and her head resting against the wall. He began moving the tips, brushing across her inside and feeling the stiffness of her nub against his thumb.

Gasping as he placed a gentle peck onto her skin, she sighed in relief when he pushed his face between her spread legs. He groaned in frustration, ripping her underwear. She lifted her head instantly at the sound of tearing and frowned. _They were expensive!_

When he gave the first lick, she forgot about the overpriced lingerie. Her hands sunk into his hair, freeing the snowy locks from the manbun he had trapped them into.

Dragging her fingers through his hair, she thrashed above him. He scooted closer, allowing his hands to seek up her legs. His tongue sought her clit, rubbing flatly across her. He pushed himself closer, nose-deep into her as he prodded his tongue at her walls, making her moan as he started licking at her soft entrance, his mouth desperate and greedy for more.

She rocked herself into him, her own lips parted in moans of pleasure, her eyes tightly shut. Her heel rested on his back, drawing him closer and locking him in position below her, her body pushing onto his face with need.

Her sounds urged him on as he licked, sucked and pushed his way to get a taste and feel of all of her. He replaced his tongue with his fingers, tracing her, caressing her.

When he stretched his fingers to feel her more deeply, she came to his lips, whispering his name like a holy prayer, the only god she’d ever known trapped between her thighs. She looked down between her eyelashes, loosening her hold on his hair and feeling her legs shiver. He smirked at her, a devilish hint to it she had never seen in those eyes.

“I’m not done.” He murmured against her.

That was the beast he held back, she realized. The greedy, burning desire he contained in favour of being a gentleman. She wanted him to fuck her senseless, she wanted him to let the beast loose.

“Of course not.” She replied teasingly as he kissed his way from her nub to her mount, her lower stomach, her navel, to the valley and ink between her breasts and unclasping the last piece of offending fabric that separated her from him.

He let her kiss him, taste his teeth, his tongue, his mouth, herself.

“Tell me what you want, princess.” He whispered in her ear, licking the diamond encrusted lobe.

She whimpered as he dragged his fingers lazily across her slit, wrapping her arms around him, wanting him close, inside of her. Marking her as his, for he was the only she’d ever allow to possess her in such a way. The only man capable of holding her heart in his hands.

Biting down on her lower lip, the paint on them long gone, she reached out and grabbed a hold of his jeans, easily unzipping them. Her gaze flickered between his face and his groin as she pulled his cock free of the fabric. He grew hard, throbbing lightly in her hand.

“Make me yours.”

He let out a growl that forced chills down her spine straight into her core. She didn’t think she’d ever wanted anyone as much as she wanted him.

“You’re already mine.” He stated possessively as her hand started moving up and down his length. As she teased the sensitive head with her soft palm, he buckled into her touch.

Before she could come up with a witty comeback, he silenced her with a kiss. Whilst jerking him off with her right hand, she drew her left one through his soft hair. His curls rolled down across his face, getting sticky with their sweat.

He pushed her onto the wall gently as she slipped her hands back onto his shoulders, sending him a daring look. There was no need to ask her again as he grabbed a hold of her waist, dragged her toward him and pushed himself inside of her in one long steady movement as he raised her leg to his hip, spreading her ready for him.

When he sunk deep into her, they gasped, clinging onto one another. The feeling of being full overwhelmed her and she moaned, throwing her head back.

“Are you okay?” He asked, always the gentleman. Her heart skipped a beat at the tenderness of his eyes when he looked into hers. “Babe?”

She chuckled, drawing her chin to her chest and peering up at him with a sultry smile that would’ve made the most experienced man out there blush like a teenager.

Purring, she dragged her hand to his cheek. “I’m okay, handsome. Fuck me as hard as you can.”

Shaking his head in silent awe, he complied; slightly withdrawing himself before pushing back into her, his quick movement slamming her to the wall. She could hear the material of the room shake. She moaned, pressing her nose to his neck. Then, she whispered.

“Again.”

Zen rammed into her one more time, and she enjoyed his quick harsh movements as he picked up his pace. He would withdraw almost completely, then press himself deep into her cunt, their skin slapping together. Every thrust earned a whimpering moan of pleasure from her, and she could only assume it made him keener to repeat.

He pulled her back together again, the way he had cut her in half when he buried himself deep into her heart. Pulling the sorrow from between her legs like silk and velvet. Knot after knot after knot. Her grief was sedated by orgasms, her orgasms heightened by the grief eclipsing her mind. How would she ever live without this? Without him?

Every moan from her made his spine tingle, and he started dragging her closer and closer to the edge, as if he could rub himself deeper inside of her if he got the right angle.

Pushing her leg upwards, she tightened her hold on his shoulders, uncaring about the fact that her hair was a wild mess. He sensed her movements and stepped closer to the wall, allowing her to swing both legs around his waist. The position forced him deeper into her velvet insides and she moaned as his length stroked down across her.

“Fuck me like you own me.” She pushed a hand into his hair as she looked into his eyes, impossibly dark with desire.

The way she had said it had sounded so good that she could see the way he restrained himself. He reached down between them to rub his fingers to her nub as he continued to fuck her into the wall.

"I do."

They were sweaty and out of breath, growing desperate with each brush of their skin. Their movements akin to shoving. Rough and quick, she wiggled in pleasure.

She was tight, wet and willing around him. His jeans had yet to be removed, but she could not stop herself nor him now. Every time he entered her, she moaned, and he moaned with her into her neck, the scent of sex and expensive perfume covering his mind.

“Someone will hear us.” He warned as he drew sweet sounds from her, their hands grabbing at one another, their kisses growing wetter and less focused.

Something about the thrill of getting caught, about the possibility of someone hearing them and catching them made her want him more. So, he fucked her, hard and deep, and she gasped and thrashed against him, pushing herself up to let him in further.

He flushed and pushed harshly into her, making her gasp one last time before she came. He could feel it on his hand, how her nub softened, and her cunt tightened around him, hell bent on milking every last drop out of him, and soon her whole body collapsed into his hold, spent.

Grunting, he prodded her up against the wall, keeping her in place as he continued to fuck her through her high. Her lips shivered, her eyes rolled back, and her hands dragged at his shoulders as he continued to mercilessly claim her cunt.

Pushing himself into her one last time, he came, spilling himself deep into her. His legs weakened and he could do nothing but skim down atop her, his face resting at her neck as he drew in air.

Carefully, he pulled away and grabbed around her back and derriere, his cock still embedded in her as he lifted them off the wall. She had no choice but to let him carry her, her cunt dripping from him.

As he pushed her onto the bed, she dragged her fingers across his jeans and whispered. “Take them off. I want to see you.”

The last pieces of clothing that concealed him from her came off and she watched him in wonder, every Greek god-like sculpt in his body. She could see the way his gaze roamed her entire body, lingering on the scars she had spread across her otherwise flawless skin. They each told a different story.

“One day, I hope you feel comfortable enough to tell me about them.” He spoke in reverence, his fingers tracing the all too familiar one on her side.

“I will.” She breathed, pulling him close and rocking her hips, lighting the flame once again.

He rocked into her, his face hidden in the crook of her neck, as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. She clamped around him tightly, squeezing and tugging. Slowly, her knees drew up to rest at his sides, inviting him deeper into her. She moaned, content, her breasts rising as she started panting.

With his eyes filled with nothing but love, he placed a hand firmly on each side of her face, keeping himself steady as he quickened his rhythm. Her heartbeat was in her throat as she gazed into the rubies incrusted in his eyes, shining brighter than any other fine jewellery she had ever owned.

“Zen…” She purred as he rocked into her at a particularly good angle, her feet pushed over his sides to his back, and she drew him closer, pushing herself up to meet with his jerks. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

His muscles were tense underneath her fingertips, but he didn’t stop, keeping up his pace until he could feel her reaching her climax.

He thrust into her a couple more times, the full length of his cock stroking across her in the same, and she came. It was instantly known to him from the way her cunt closed in on him, how her hands clenched the sheets beneath them to tight, white fists and the way her head rolled back, her lips parting in a silent whine. She shivered, and when her hands suddenly pushed up, grabbed at his countenance and pulled him down into a loving and breathless kiss, he, too, was overcome with the need to release.

He came, spilling himself deep in her cunt. So warm and tight, she could barely tell what was cum and what were her own juices. She only knew that her mind closed down, and her heart skipped a beat at how much she felt for him.

Calypso caressed his back lovingly, allowing his cock to grow limp inside of her as their lips lazily moved against one another, having a last taste of their tired breaths. Then, she regretted internally, he tugged himself free, and rolled onto his side next to her, facing the roof.

Turning her head to look at him, she smiled. “Hey.”

Zen turned, an equally dopey grin on his face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and toying with her earring. It glimmered in the dim, dying daylight falling through the curtains. “Hey.”

Leisurely, he lifted the covers and helped her crawl underneath them to shield themselves from the cold. Her head came to rest at his shoulder, rising and falling with his breathing, as he rubbed circles on her lean arms absentmindedly.

Allowing herself a moment of peace, she closed her eyes. Sleep began to claim her, but it was chased away gently by the sound of his voice.

“Calypso, after you’re done with your mission, do you think you can stay?” He spoke, his voice so innocent that it choked her up with the need to cry.

She folded her hands over his chest, lifting herself to gaze into his eyes and answer as truthfully as she could, remembering the words _A_ had reasoned and smiling.

“I think I could.”

The smile that spread through his face lit up her entire world and she squealed as he rolled them over and tickled her sides. She thrashed beneath him, her laughter echoing around the room. He laughed along with her, stopping only to kiss her gently.

It wasn’t long before he fell asleep, soft breaths coming from him. She gazed at him for as long as she could, memorizing every detail of his beautiful face. Her line of work allowed no guarantees, but for once, she was truly motivated to keep herself alive at all costs.

When she was certain that he was asleep, she crawled out of bed quietly, and put on her clothes. As she closed the door behind her carefully, and walked to the area where she knew she had left her possessions, she swore that an audience had applauded for them…

…but they hadn't been able to hear them.

* * *


	38. Run, Boy, Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Run, boy, run! The sun will be guiding you. Run, boy, run! They're dying to stop you. Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment!
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Know thy self, know thy enemy.  
A thousand battles, a thousand victories.”  
\- Sun Tzu_

* * *

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, a rush of lightning through every connection underneath her skin that lead straight to her brain. In her mind, she was going through the five stages of grief all at once, while her body moved on its own, used to the procedure.

After sneaking out of the bedroom, regretfully leaving a sleeping Zen behind, she had locked herself into the nearest bathroom, forcing her muscles to make haste through a navy shower. Her attempts at blocking her thoughts proved as fruitful as could be expected after having almost confessed to the young actor the true nature and depth of her feelings for him.

She exited the bathroom, walking bare and dripping with water, to the place where she had left her luggage. There was no danger of anyone seeing her, for Luciel had assured her that this was a separate area from his main house. Her luggage rested over a settee in a living room.

Truth be told, she would’ve loved to meet Yoosung. She knew he was around, probably looking for evidence to use against Echo Girl. Not long had passed, only three hours or so, since Saeran had attempted to take her to Magenta.

The recording of the interrogation had already been sent to _A_ , who had been forced to hold off the attack of the chateau while she was trapped inside of the apartment. Her orders had been to stay put until she was safe and free to lead the siege.

Opening her suitcase, she dug around for the special operations gear and uniform she used for such occasions. Black covered her from the neck down, a turtleneck concealing the marks Zen had left on her body from the rest of the world. As she tied the laces of her combat boots, she glanced at the place where she had left the blueprints for Magenta.

Frowning, she realized they were no longer there.

In walked Luciel, holding the documents in his hands, all colour drained from his face. He looked up at her from the doorway, his grip on the paper making it rumple.

There was something about the way he was looking at her, about the blush that rose to his cheeks and covered his entire face in embarrassment. His eyes drifted to certain spots in her body and she tilted her head in confusion. She recognized it, then, the lust and embarrassment in his eyes. Looking away, he returned his attention to the blueprints.

It was then, when it hit her. He had warned her that he had cameras in every room of his bunker home. A knowing smirk spread across her lips, unable to resist the amusement that threatened to escape her mind. He had seen them.

She took pity on him and shook her head, pointing at the documents. One day, she'd take the time to tease him. 

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to resist taking a look at my suitcase.” She stated casually, crossing her arms over her chest.

Luciel remained silent, loosening his hold.

“I’m going to need those back.” She stated, taking a step closer and uncrossing her arms as she reached for them.

He took a step back. “This is not far away from here.”

Concealing her expression behind a poker face, she nodded. “Correct.”

He chewed on his bottom lip as he debated with himself, seemingly trying to decide something or selecting the words he’d use next. With her fingers, she pulled the hair tie she kept on her wrist and tied her hair away from her face.

Glancing at her despite his embarrassment, he recognized the clothes she wore. His expression steeled. “You’re still leaving?”

There was an accusatory tone in the way he said those words, forcing the guilt she had tried to battle against as soon as she had climbed out of bed back into the surface. The hurricane of emotions raging inside was left masked and veiled by the coldness of her face.

“I am.” She replied simply, taking another step in his direction and fighting a groan of frustration at his retreat.

For the first time since she had met him, she saw fury burn through his eyes as his face distorted into an angry grimace. “Invading the place by yourself is stupid.”

Her fingers hovered over the pocket that contained _Boxi_ , a reminder that _A_ and a special team composed of a few agents and Korean police were on their way to their rendezvous point. She couldn't reveal anything to him.

“Since when are you a walking IQ test?” She countered, unable to hide a mischievous smile.

A ghost of a smile brushed over the corner of his mouth.

“I have been trained for this my entire life, Saeyoung.” She spoke once again, studying his reaction at the use of his birth name.

His expression darkened once again. “I can’t let you leave.”

There was a warning, a threat embedded in his sentence.

“Are you going to stop me? Believe me, Luciel, that will not end well for you.” Calypso tried to warn him, her hand coming to rest atop the firearm on her hip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

When he threw the blueprints to the floor and positioned himself between the door and her, she understood that the only way this would end up was with one of them on the floor, unconscious. She didn’t know much about his training, but she had fought people just as professionally capable as her.

This was his final stand.

She closed her suitcase and lifted it, her hand turning white at the iron fist grip she had on it, and came to stand before him, their faces inches apart as she looked down.

“I can’t let you leave, Calypso.” He repeated, determination in his eyes. “What will I tell the rest of the members of the RFA when you disappear? Do you think they’ll magically forget about you?”

Her phone vibrated against her thigh as if on cue. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“My job is to protect my country, I don’t know who you are or who you work for, but I can’t let you leave.”

A mirthless smile, almost mocking, drew itself on her countenance. They had already been through this. “Are you sure it’s not because our dear friend, V, is involved?”

The shock on his face gave her the answer she needed.

“I know your history.” She fired, knowing she had to leave, and pulling the right strings would do the job. “I know you’re trying to protect him. Don’t make this hard, Luciel, if you’re not a part of it.”

“I can’t let you hurt him. I’ll fight you if I have to.” He reciprocated with as much fire in his voice. His hands clenched into fists.

Her back tensed, readying itself for battle. The familiar chemicals freeing themselves from the synaptic connections in her head. She was the mother of temptation, the master of deceit, a killer. He was as brave as he was because he didn’t truly know what she was capable of – the things she had done. The pain she had inflicted upon people was her worst nightmare, the one thing she truly feared. For when she thought about what she had done, having been in their place, death would’ve been a merciful release.

To her dismay, his face reflected the emotions he had shown when she told him she was going to interrogate Saeran. He wasn't lying, he was willing to fight for V because he cared for him. He had trusted her because he had seen the lengths she had been prepared to go to when she believed he had been aware of what had been done to his twin.

This time, he had no certainty. It was a battle royale between his mind and his heart. Between his duty and love.

She had grown to love them all, despite her not wanting to. The realization of what was about to happen cracked her heart. Every wall she had ever built around her emotions sprouted back violently, thrust back into her with the weight of the knowledge of what she was about to do.

“I commend you for your loyalty, Ned Stark, but I wouldn't put my head on a spike for someone we're not certain is behind the bloody hell your brother went through.” She hissed, leaning in.

Her words had the desired effect, as his gaze lowered. She was surprised by the hatred that was directed back at her when he looked up again. “This is what you do, isn’t it? No wonder I was never cut out for field work.”

“I suppose not.” She stated, putting her suitcase down and taking a deep breath.

Autopilot took over, and before Luciel had time to react, she forced his shoulders down with the heel of her gloved palms. His body tensed immediately, but by the time he had processed the attack, she brought her knee forward and aimed for the nose. The sickening sound of bone connecting against his face made her flinch inwardly.

As soon as he crouched down to nurse his bleeding nose, she raised her elbow, and delivered the fatal blow over his head, knocking him out. When his body hit the ground, she returned to herself, and resisted the urge to cry.

Carefully, she lifted him off the ground and laid him down on the settee. There was a possibility he’d come after her when he woke, but by then, she hoped, it would all be over.

It dawned on her how ruthless she truly was, how much she had softened in the past week and a half. This was the essence of what she had been turned into, of what she truly was underneath the layers of lives she dared not dream of. This was the woman who killed, tortured, manipulated and lied.

“I’m sorry, Saeyoung.” She whispered, gently pushing his auburn hair away from his face.

Her humanity was so fragmented that she had just taken a hit at her friend. She turned away from the body, grabbed everything that belonged to her so that she wouldn’t leave any trace behind and left, hijacking one of Luciel’s cars.

Broken, living with a loaded gun. She had known it would never be easy to free herself from the shadows and demons of her past. A fine killer could not be outmatched, outfought, outdone or outrun. No one had ever escaped her deliverance of death – and for her sake, she hoped it would remain that way.

The lights and the trees blurred behind her tears as she sped to the rendezvous point, pushing all thoughts of ivory hair and wine-dark eyes from her mind.

Upon her arrival she was met with the entire tactical team that _A_ had prepared for the siege. They brought memories of cold decay, transmissions, and merciless planning. This time, though, they were working with the police, so she knew they would have to hold back on their normal methods of target elimination and retrieval.

Looking around, she recognized a few faces from her agency. They nodded at her in acknowledgement as she walked to the place where she knew _A_ would surely be – in the midst of it all, barking orders and ready to step down when she appeared.

Somewhere along the way, there was a hidden space that any agent could find. Even when all guide had failed, the audacity to traverse the veil and realize that all paths were intertwined remained. Beyond frontiers and shining dichotomies, beyond schemes of good and evil, there was a field where they could wander and leave behind their names – the ability to close every division in their minds.

It wasn’t a coincidence; it was a fractal image that understood that the world was made up of the connections that allowed its existence.

When she came up on _A_ ’s line of sight, he dismissed the agents around him and motioned for her to come forward.

“Good to know you’re safe, 401.” Despite the monotone of his voice, she could see the relief in his eyes. His accent felt like coming home, through every word she had long stopped using.

“Thank you, sir.” She replied, with her hands clasped behind her back.

He nodded and grabbed his own _Boxi_ device, displaying a hologram of the blueprints she had sent to him. “I trust your plan is more than just storming the place.”

Calypso proceeded to explain the plan to siege the chateau. She’d enter with a small team of agents to dispatch the only line of defence there was, if Saeran’s information had been correct. Once they gave the clear, the police would storm the place to free the people who were trapped inside. Her job would be to find the Saviour herself, while the rest of the agents looked for their missing men.

“And the fiancé?” _A_ questioned.

“According to Saeran, he should be there.”

 _A_ shook his head, then fixated his gaze on her. “Are you certain you can trust that boy?”

“I don’t have a choice.” She replied mournfully. “If his information is incorrect, I’ll make sure everyone gets out of there safely and I’ll hunt him down myself.”

“And the alleged Saviour?”

Ever since she had gotten the answers she had required, the name Mina floated around her head, knowing she had read it somewhere but not entirely sure where. It had only been after revising the profiles the agency had provided for her before the mission began, that she was able to slot the information into place.

“My hunch was right.” She simply said, knowing he’d be able to understand. His eyes widened slightly, but it was gone as soon as it came.

“Very well.” He replied, closing his eyes. When he opened them, there was a coldness she had not seen in years. “Bring her to justice, _dead_ or _alive_.”

It was the kind of order that would not be revealed to the authorities. “Yes, sir.”

“Will you walk beside Thanatos?” He asked.

“Into the darkest parts of the Tartarus.” She replied, the sentence a reminder of what she was.

“Good. Your team is ready.”

“Thank you, _A_.”

“Be careful, 401.” He spoke, lowering his voice so she’d be the only one to hear him. “I’m certain that pretty boy of yours would miss you…as would I.”

She said nothing more, turning on her heel and grabbing the gear she’d need to storm the place down. She secured the bulletproof vest and sheathed a combat knife in it. The agents beside her did the same, used to the routine and preparation required before engaging with an enemy.

They were the voices of fear, goodbyes and beginnings. Royals of solitude. They were a game of chess, the kind that people played to live forever. They were peace, war and whatever people thought them to be. Love, tears and pain. The poisoned apples of Eden, Persephone’s pomegranate. The Erinyes provided the eternal solution, freeing people from their sins. Once summoned, they were death.

The key she had found within Rika’s apartment had belonged to the chateau. She supposed it had been some sort of master key, capable of opening every door.

They had entered through the back entrance, the few sounds that came from them were their boots against the cold marble floor and their weapons' soft rattle. Their communication had been limited to hand signals, and the agents assigned under her command had followed her every order. Teamwork was something she rarely did, but it felt good to have someone cover her back.

When they stumbled upon the first members of the cult, they took them out silently, leaving them unconscious. They knew that once the police force entered the building, finding dead bodies wouldn’t look good for them.

The halls were dark, and their headgear provided them with night vision. Nothing but emptiness within the walls they wandered. Everyone was asleep, they had begun their raid nearing midnight.

Once the first ones were down, they separated, each agent doing their own sweeping of the floor to clear the faith keepers and avoid the raising of alarms.

Calypso walked silently, with her assault riffle pointed forward, her hand on the trigger, ready to pull it if she came into contact with a hostile. She could see the light slipping from the cracks underneath each door she passed. She did the math in her head, trying to calculate just how many people resided within the building. Trying to determine an escape route if she needed it.

The movements came back to her, habit responding to the necessities of her brain and the situation she was in.

Having memorized the blueprints, she had an idea of where she was. She knew she was near the ball room of the castle. Her orders were to find the Savior, to find the woman and the mastermind behind it all. One of her agents had been sent to investigate her quarters, but she had remembered Saeran telling her that the woman barely slept.

The sound of footsteps made the hairs on her neck stand and she blended into the shadows as quickly as she could. She was right before the entrance of the area she suspected the Savior was in. If it came to it, she’d take down anyone that stood on her path.

Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized the man. The cyan hair and eyes gave him away.

V.

The only antidote left burned against her chest. When she had found out what was being done to him, she had hypothesized that he was also victim. Looking at him, she was certain of it. Even underneath the robes he wore, there wear clear signs of malnourishment and bruises. His feet dragged and his eyes were unfocused – the same look Saeran had had when he had entered the apartment.

He was under the influence of the drug.

She remembered every conversation she had held with him, what little she had read about him, the conversation he had shared with Jumin, the trust Luciel had in him. She wanted him to be innocent, and she would have to find the truth for that to happen.

Making her mind up, she grabbed him from behind, her hand covering his mouth. He didn’t struggle as she dragged him to the dark corner where she had hidden.

He watched, his eyes trying to make sense of who had grabbed him. He didn’t speak.

Hesitantly, she took off her combat helmet and let him see her.

It took him almost a minute before recognition flashed in his eyes. It was gone when he blinked. The drug had done a number on him and she hoped that the vial contained enough to make him gain the control and consciousness she needed from him.

Reaching for the pocket in her vest, she pulled out the vial with the golden liquid. She opened it and reached for his chin. His eyes widened in fear, but he didn’t fight her. It bothered her how broken he was.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She whispered as she poured the liquid down his throat.

He swallowed, used to being forced to take whatever was given to him, be it poison or water. When his eyes closed and his head went limp, she realized he wouldn’t be of much help until he was awake.

Tilting her head to the double doors at the other end of the hall, she made up her mind. Slipping a small tracking device inside the pocket of his robes, she decided he wasn’t her priority right now. She reached for her helmet, put it back on and stood up, leaving V to rest against the wall. She’d come back for him later.

A bad feeling rushed through her as she reached for the doorknob, but she forced herself to shrug it off. Her instincts kept her alive, but she had learned to fight them when it was necessary.

She pressed _Boxi_. A message was sent to both her agents and the police force waiting to storm the place down. Her time was limited.

With determination, she turned the doorknob and threw the door open.

* * *


	39. Exile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“For life and death are one,  
even as the river and the sea are one.”  
\- Kahlil Gibran_

* * *

Battle was much like a dance. Swift movements, graceful stepping and a momentum that could turn on a dime with the smallest mistake. The difference was rooted in the imminent danger of death and pain. In the blood spilled and drawn with the streaking of a sole against the ground. The rhythm of falls and hits delivered, the number of deaths claimed. The soreness and the ripped muscles, burning through the simplest of actions as a reminder of what was reaped and taken.

Black covered her from head to toe, she was nothing but a shadow. A silent guardian for those she had trailed after in the past, and a nightmare for those who became her targets, a blank painted on their backs for her to cash out like a prize. Another notch in her red pages.

Death was not something she took pride in, despite the fact that the number of confirmed kills she possessed was constantly celebrated, glorified as if the things she had done didn’t haunt her and keep her awake at night. As if guilt was nothing more than a gentle lover instead of a punisher, a judge filled with hatred. As if her hands weren’t dripping with blood she couldn’t wash away no matter how hard she tried. Hands she selfishly used to love.

Long had she known that there were no gods, for no divinity would ever allow her to continue on living with the sins she had birthed.

Both her breathing and her heartbeat were imperceptible, slowed down. One foot in front of the other, with the riffle pointed forward, she entered the ball room.

Darkness greeted her, the shades of green that the night vision gifted her with gave her nothing but silhouettes around her. She tilted her head upwards slightly, watching the chandelier that hung from the ceiling, glass rhombus that would’ve reflected had there been sunlight streaming through the ceiling length windows. The ceiling was a cupola, tinted glass depicting scenarios she didn’t recognize – figures holding hands, dancing, flowers and blue everywhere.

She raised an eyebrow but returned her attention to her surroundings. Scanning the room, her gaze came to rest at the end of the room, where an imposing throne rested after an archway, decorated by a luxurious tent.

And sitting on it was the Saviour herself, looking directly at Calypso with a twisted smile on her face.

The lights came on abruptly, burning the agent’s eyes. Refusing to let her guard down, she fought through the pain and turned off her night vision. Keeping silent, she walked slowly to her.

Two guards, heavily armed came to stand before the blonde woman, threatening to use force if she dared come closer.

Despite her voice being modified by the helmet, she spoke clearly. “Stand down.”

Biting her lip, she realized something was wrong when the Saviour’s shoulders began shaking with laughter. There was something mad, wicked and twisted about her. A mind gone beyond any recognition, something shattered beyond repair.

“Don’t make this any harder for yourself, Rika.” Calypso declared, taking a step closer but stopping as soon as two guns were pointed at her. “Tell them to stand down.”

At the mention of her name, the woman’s face steeled with frightening speed. She folded her hands over her lap, the robes she wore following her movements gracefully.

“I have no need to listen to you.” Came her voice, deceivingly sweet. “I don’t even know who you are.”

* * *

_I can see you standing, honey  
With his arms around your body_

* * *

“You are under arrest, Rika. You will have to face justice for everything you’ve done.” Calypso stated, taking another step closer and watching the guards meticulously for any sudden movements. They were waiting for orders, she realized.

She tilted her head devilishly. “Oh, and what have I done? As far as I’m concerned, all I’ve done is taking suffering away from people. I am their Saviour.”

“Saviour of idiots…” Calypso muttered under her breath but raised her voice at her next words. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Do you really think I didn’t notice the moment you stepped into my territory?” Rika questioned with an edge to her voice. “You and your agents. I know the police is coming.”

Standing from her chair, a hateful look was thrown her way.

“What I’d like to know is how you found me.” She intoned. “Did my useless fiancé bring you here? My useless lackey?”

Her words felt like a slap to her face, knowing how much the very same men she spoke of cared for her. The lengths they had gone to in order to please her, to protect her and love her. She understood, then, that the woman before her was beyond redemption.

“I’m not entirely surprised, I should’ve known they’d eventually betray me.” She deadpanned; her eyes covered by a shadow. “I’ve been preparing for this moment.”

Languidly, she walked to a small table, where she poured herself a glass of wine. Calypso remained silent, thinking of what to do. She was to bring her dead or alive, it didn’t matter. Which outcome would cause less trouble? Which decision would be less destructive?

“To think I could save them…” She sibilated, taking a sip of wine, the drink tinting her lips with a beautiful red colour. She stared at the bottom of her glass before her attention was directed at Calypso. “But I suppose they’ll meet your fate…pity, I would’ve liked to see your face before I had you killed.”

Warningly, she raised her riffle and pointed at her head. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

Rika smirked before coming to sit at her throne once again with her glass in hand. She motioned at her guards. “Kill her.”

As soon as the words escaped her lips, they began shooting her. The bullets pierced through stone, when she took cover behind a pillar.

“Fuck…” She cursed, sneaking a glance at them to determine their positions.

Through her earpiece, her men confirmed that they had found the wedding planner and the reporter. They had begun evacuating the people trapped within the cells in the basement. It lifted a load from her already weary shoulders. Soon, it would all be over. 

The hitmen who were raining ammunition on her were only a meter or two away from their Saviour, not daring to leave her unprotected. It would be their downfall, for they didn't know just who they were standing up against. Reaching for the grenades in her belt, she chose a smoke one. She had wanted to avoid spilling blood, adding more red ink to her book - but things rarely went her way when it came to the lives of others. With the safety off, she threw it their way, and waited for the explosion and the exclamations that would surely follow.

As predicted, they were confused by the smoke, yelling at each other.

One shot, then two. Their bodies fell to the ground, their warm blood painting the marble floor with the same shade of crimson she normally wore on her lips.

When the smoke dissipated, Rika had a crazed look on her face. She composed it and smirked at her.

“Well, you’ll make a fine addition to my people.”

“You think so?” Calypso asked sarcastically, approaching. “I doubt you’d be able to keep me in line.”

“Nothing a whip can’t fix.”

“It would take a lot more than a whip to break me.” Calypso tilted her head, a smile on her lips even though the other woman couldn’t see it. “I quite like them, you see.”

* * *

_Laughing, but the joke's not funny at all  
And it took you five whole minutes_

* * *

Huffing, Rika stood and took a step closer to her, stepping over the dead bodies, uncaring about the blood soiling her clothes. “Then perhaps something else. Tell me…”

From her robes, she pulled a vial containing a blue liquid and a firearm. She held them both with one hand as she drank the last drops of her wine and threw it to the ground, the glass shattering as it connected with marble.

“…how long until your men raid the entire castle?”

Her aim still remained true, ready to pull the trigger and shoot her in the head if she tried anything.

Before she could open her mouth to retort with poison, a voice came behind her.

“Rika, stop.”

Calypso didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, she hadn’t expected the antidote to work so fast, especially since he had been in a worse state than Saeran had been in.

“What are _you_ doing here?” She hissed, her fingers playing with the safety of her gun. “I thought you’d be long dead by now.”

“I could never leave you, my love.” V came to stand beside Calypso.

“You never loved me.” Rika spat.

“I have always loved you.” He countered, taking a step closer to her, his hands outstretched. “I let you break me, use me.”

It was then, when Calypso noticed the shift of energy in the room. The bitter taste of lies on her tongue, so familiar she had no problem recognizing it. The madness that had surrounded the blonde woman darkened as she laughed hysterically, her free hand coming to rest against her chest. Tears began accumulating in her eyes.

There was a sinister creativity lurking behind her forest green eyes, capable of generating resources that razed all, erased all, stopped all. Her ire grew, hardened into stone. The repetition that had brought forth the ills of their relationship, with its transformations and obstacles, its particular articulation with that which was traumatic, and that which existed beyond pain: a void, absence, nothing. Her active seeking for suffering was nothing more than an assassination of time.

“Love me?!” She screeched. “You have never loved me! You swore it! You swore that you’d love me forever! But you’re trying to stop me!”

Her hand twitched and Calypso knew she was seconds away from exploding.

* * *

_To pack us up and leave me with it  
Holding all this love out here in the hall_

* * *

“No one has loved me since my birth! You said you loved me like the sun! You said you’d love me even if I became evil! Why are you doing this?!”

“I…” V stopped, his hand falling limp at his side.

“You said you’d love me even if you were blind and your heart was ripped to shreds! Even if you were dead!”

“I was trying to protect them from you.” He finally confessed. “And you from yourself.”

Her laugh got louder and louder, bouncing off the walls and echoing in the empty room. She was shaking with the strength of her own brokenness, the pain embedded so deep into her that she had become it instead of fighting it.

Sneaking a glance at the man, the agent was surprised to find him crying as well. He was more conscious than he had been in goodness knows how long, and he still loved her. Slowly, Calypso took off her helmet and threw it to the side. She'd try to save them both. 

It was but a shadow and a thought that he loved. A winding, weaving love to which they would both atone should she cross the line beyond humanity; mounted upon the structure of psychic tissue composed of coagulated prints in the absence of all logic and reason.

“Well, let’s prove that theory, shall we?!” Rika screamed, throwing the vial at V. “Let’s see if you'll still love me once you’re dead!”

There was no need to have a rocket science degree to understand that the amount of liquid contained in that vial would be enough to kill him or damage him beyond repair.

Time slowed down for Calypso, so used to making split second decisions. The drug would kill him after he had been exposed to it for so long. She regretted taking off her helmet, her attempts at negotiating smoked off after Rika had finally lost it. There was no negotiating with the dead.

Her feet moved quickly, and she came to stand before V, her arms outstretched, protecting him like a shield.

The blue vial broke against her vest, but the drug spilled everywhere, entering her system through her skin and her mouth, even her nose. Calypso began coughing, trying to fight the effects of the liquid.

She knew it would act quickly, _A_ ’s words filtering through her mind. There was a chance she’d be resistant to it, after all the chemicals her body had endured in the past, but she couldn’t take that chance.

“Look at you! It seems you fooled us all, as well!” Rika shrilled gleefully. “It doesn’t matter, you’ll die along with him. You all will!”

Her mind had begun becoming hazy, every colour highlighted, every sound and texture stronger than she had ever experienced it. She was no stranger to the effects of drugs, but this was meant to end her. She could fight with her hands tied behind her back, but she knew it would be sluggish with the alteration to her system.

Rika’s laughter and screams were like glass shards against her brain. There was a pounding with every vibration of her voice, a twitching as she tried to concentrate and figure out what she was going to do.

When Rika aimed at V, Calypso knew this was not a line the woman wanted to cross. She had been there before, and she carried the death of her former lover in her conscience. Her shadow haunted her in every dream, in every sound.

Standing before her, was her past self. A broken woman, alone in the world.

“Rika, don’t do it!” She yelled. 

* * *

_I think I've seen this film before  
And I didn't like the ending_

* * *

“He lied to me! Everyone has lied to me! No one loves me, so why should they be allowed to love someone else?! To live?!”

Calypso let out a shuddering breath, the drug was beginning to take effect. She had no antidote to counter it.

“My hands are stained with blood years old.” She began, trying to reason with her one last time. “If you kill him, it will be blood and sorrow. Long nights listening to the screaming of your guilt, haunted by every life you have ever taken.”

She was met with silence and a wicked smirk.

“I can live with that.”

With her riffle, Calypso aimed at Rika’s chest.

Then the pain from the bullet came as she realized time had run out. Her side burned along with the scar that never healed. She bit back a cry as she heard V yell behind her. Before he could react, she elbowed him in the face. He fell to the ground and she made her decision.

Both her mind and her body were being abused and she tried to channel every defence mechanism she had used in the past when being tortured. 

She pulled the trigger and watched as Rika’s blood stained her beautiful robes.

“No…” V whispered behind her.

“You bitch!” Rika heaved, reaching one last time for something in her robes. Calypso pulled the trigger again and watched the torn flesh of her hand fall to the floor. Her wails of pain filled her ears, her head. It felt like acid in her blood.

The drug attacked violently. Unable to control her mind any longer, she dropped the riffle to the floor and stumbled back, clutching her head. _A_ had warned her how dangerous it was, she had not expected it to be so powerful.

She was unable to do much as Rika pulled a switch from her robes with her other hand.

“Very…well…” The Saviour growled with what little breath was left within her. “Then… _we all die_.”

From her earpiece, people were telling her they had evacuated everyone, they were waiting for her. Their calls seemed so distant, so far away from where she was.

A cry was torn from her throat as she watched her press a button helplessly.

The sound came before the explosions and the heat.

* * *

_You're not my homeland anymore  
So what am I defending now?_

* * *

When the ceiling came crashing down, she threw herself over V, hoping to protect and save him. He’d be the key to proving the innocence of the rest of the RFA if she died.

Glass, stone and marble fell, dust and rubble. Ashes to ashes, fire and smoke.

Calypso knew they wouldn’t survive it.

Rika’s breathing stopped. And when the luring embrace of darkness came for her, when she felt the first pieces of rubble hit her as she crawled over V to protect him, she let it take her.

* * *

_You were my town, now I'm in exile, seeing you out  
I think I've seen this film before_

* * *

As she drifted, the blue haze in her mind gifted her one last memory of crimson eyes and snow white hair amongst the pain.

And in that haze, she burned, and burned, and burned. 

* * *

_So, I'm leaving out the side door_

* * *


	40. Angel With A Shotgun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They say before you start a war you better know what you're fighting for. Well, baby, you are all that I adore. If love is what you need, a soldier I will be.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Ever has it been that love knows not  
its own depth until the hour of separation.”  
\- Khalil Gibran_

* * *

His fingers languidly inched forward, reaching futilely for where his lover was, but his hand ended up grasping at nothing. Furrowing in confusion, his eyelids slid open to reveal the sleepy haze clouding his wine eyes. Ever so slowly he turned on his back to face the cold, empty space beside him. There was not even a dim outline in darkness for him to trace.

Through the curtains, moonlight filtered, shining light over the wrinkled sheets. He blew a rebellious strand of snowy hair from his face and closed his eyes, trying to hold back the pain that threatened to cloud over his already heavy heart.

Damned be what the sky and its stars owned.

She fled his dream come the morning, never lingering long enough for him to look at her countenance as she slept, parted lips and soft breathing. Her scent remained: as bitter as coffee and as saccharine as sugar.

To dream of earthy locks, twisted and raging; of eyes as dark as night. A whispered wish and a promise, the forging of a love to bind them both between labyrinths of metaphors and metonymy that glimpsed into the silhouette of yearning. In the dark, between hushes and moans, she had uttered a vow to him – but he found himself with nothing but his own muted shadow to keep him company. Symptoms were destiny to repetition; would he always wake alone with nothing but her scent to haunt him? She was all and more, nothing and none.

He had not noticed her retreat, the absence of her warmth until he awoke. She had trodden carefully, keeping her footsteps silent as the elegy his lips urged him to give up. Like light to the blind, she had left nothing behind. But the light? What need had she for the light when she had become darkness’ lover?

Thunder rumbled outside, signalling the coming of a storm not unlike the one wrathing in his chest. With the flashing of lightning beside the glass, sleep was shaken from him, the veil of slumber being lifted roughly.

She had faded into the night.

Glancing at the clock in the nightstand, he realized it wasn’t even that late. He rose from the bed and picked up his discarded clothes from the floor, the tender skin that her nails had torn protesting against his decision. He changed and exited the bedroom, walking to the living room, hoping she’d be there.

Instead, he was met with Seven’s unconscious body on the settee, blood flowing from his nose and dripping into the floor. A feeling of dread settled over him and he sighed, approaching the coffee table and opening a water bottle. He took a gulp of it before emptying it over the hacker’s face to wake him.

“Hello?” Asked Luciel in confusion, lifting his head.

“Wake up, idiot.” He spat, closing the bottle and putting it back where he found it. “Where is she?”

His friend instantly brought one hand to the back of his head and the other to touch his nose, grimacing as he sat up. “She’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

It took Seven a moment to truly regain control of his mind and memories, but when he did, his eyes widened, and he stood. Zen grabbed him by the arm when he stumbled.

“We have to go.” Luciel argued, freeing his arm roughly from his hold and cradling his head. “Now.”

“Where did she go?” Zen frowned, taking a step closer, his hand ready to hold onto his friend in case his knees gave in.

“She went after them on her own.” He explained, fussing around the room, grabbing various objects he didn’t recognize.

He froze, a chill running down his spine. “She _what_?”

Seven ignored him, pulling his phone out and hesitating before he pressed the screen and brought it to his ear. His friend cursed under his breath.

“V’s not picking up.” He growled. “She must’ve already gotten to him.”

Zen didn’t want to believe it, but he did against every fibre of his being. She had disclosed information about her mission to him, what she could afford. She had gone after Mint Eye. He had seen for himself how skilled she was, but he didn’t think she could take on an entire cult by herself.

“She told me about them…” Zen began.

Luciel continued badgering his phone with calls, trying to reach the head of the RFA. He came to stand before his friend and grabbed his wrists forcefully to stop him from calling.

“Listen to me, Seven. V is involved.” He tried.

“It’s not true, it can’t be.” Seven whispered, shaking his head despite the pain. “He wouldn’t, he was supposed to protect him, not hurt him. It can’t be true.”

His voice settled with a commanding tone, echoing through the room as he barked at his friend with more force than he had meant to in order to shake him out of his denial. “Luciel!”

Seven’s eyes filled with tears. “It can’t be.”

“She told me they were recruiting them both.” He explained.

“He wouldn’t…” Seven shook his head once again.

“Do you think I wanted to believe it? It explains a lot, Seven. He’s barely around and we can rarely reach him.”

“I need to find him.” Seven argued. “We need to go now.”

Zen's eyes softened in understanding when he saw the pain in his friend's gaze. She could be in danger, she could be outnumbered, she could...

If they looked for V, they would surely find her. “Do you know where she is?”

“I do. I found the blueprints of their base.”

Not even having time to question his response, he nodded and let go of Seven. 

“Let’s go, then.”

Zen followed him into the garage, his phone burning a hole in his pocket. Calling her would be useless, something told him she wouldn’t pick up. After Seven told him she was gone, a bad feeling had instantly taken root in his chest. Battling against it, he forced himself to stay calm.

“Fuck!” Seven exclaimed as he noticed one of his cars was missing and the rest had slashed tires. “She’s fucking good.”

When the earth trembled beneath their feet, Zen knew something had gone wrong. She had told him that as far as her agency was concerned, they were all involved. It would be dangerous to follow the prints of her footsteps, but he had no other choice. Fear had already begun consuming him, and he feared losing her. Both Luciel and him were trained to fight, they would be backup enough.

If it came to it, he didn’t know whether he’d be able to pick a side. She had sworn she was trying to protect them, to prove their innocence. They wouldn’t be able to get there in time if they journeyed there on foot. He had left his motorcycle at her apartment complex.

Against his better judgement, he made his decision.

“Call Jumin.” He ordered.

“What?” Seven looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

“She slashed your tires, and I’m assuming you don’t have enough replacements to change them. Call Jumin, he will send not only a car but bodyguards if you ask him to.”

“What the hell do I tell him? _Hey, Jumin. Remember Calypso? Well, she’s a secret agent and she went after your childhood friend, care to send me a car so I can go after her_?” Seven disputed sarcastically.

“Exactly.”

He knew he would be divulging her secret, it was not his place, but he couldn’t come up with a better solution that would get them there fast. Caution had been thrown to the wind.

“Fuck…” Luciel hissed before pulling his phone out and dialling Jumin’s number.

Muting the sound of screaming from his mind, he tried to steady his hands. Something was wrong, he could feel it. Every pore in his skin could sense it. It could be attributed to his psychic abilities, but he didn’t want to believe it was true. He could almost feel the stench of death crawling its way through his senses.

He knew they would have to deal with the shockwave of this. Revealing her identity to Jumin would have repercussions and he didn’t know just how dangerous they would be for her. She had told him she’d be punished for telling him what she had. What would happen to her if her identity was revealed? Would they execute her? What was the use of a mask once it was cracked?

“What did he say?” He asked, his back turned to Luciel as he stared at the slashed tires. He could almost see her there.

“He’s sending us a car right now.” Seven stated, his voice restrained by an emotion Zen couldn’t place. “He’s also coming. He’s not happy about this.”

Finally, he uncrossed his arms and turned to look at his friend. “None of us are, Seven.”

The waiting was slowly killing him. When the car finally arrived, Seven asked the bodyguards to step aside, he would take them to where they were supposed to go.

Sitting on the passenger seat, he forced his mind to calm down despite the screaming and the fighting it displayed before him. The horrible scenarios it came up with. 

Doubting her abilities wouldn’t do anyone any good. She had claimed she had suspected Rika’s involvement, but he had kept that bit to himself – driving him to believe he had gone mad. Rika had been the founder of their organization, she had been good, kind. Had the cult forced her into it? Was she still alive?

His emotional bond to Rika had not been nearly as strong as Yoosung’s or V’s. She had supported him; she had been there for him when he had nearly lost hope. Like Jaehee, his relationship to her had not been as personal but meaningful, nonetheless.

A shadow was cast over everything he had thought he had known. Empathically, he didn’t even want to know how Seven or Jumin felt. They had been closer to her, Seven had known her since he was a child. Jumin had been close to her. And V...heavens, V had _loved_ her. 

Faintly, he could still hear Rika talking quietly beside him in his memories, speaking of things she dared not confess to anyone else for fear of being judged. She had known he had been involved in a love triangle in the past, despite the fact that he had turned both women down. There had been no better character than him to understand her as she spoke of feelings she couldn’t control.

Unlocking his phone, he logged into the RFA Messenger to let Yoosung know they were going out. When he went after Calypso, he had claimed he had taken her to his home. As far as the RFA was concerned, they were still in his apartment. He was not a liar, but he wondered absentmindedly if withholding the truth was the same thing. The student’s reply came fast, telling them to be careful and to come back soon. Guilt washed over him. 

After all was said and done, would Seven and Jumin be forced to keep Calypso’s secret? V’s secret?

Violently, he was brought out of his reverie by the sight of flames and smoke in the distance.

“Is that the place?” He demanded, turning to Seven.

Seven’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel and pushed the accelerator to its limit. The engine revved as they sped closer to the location.

Upon their arrival, he noticed two things:

  1. She had not stormed the place on her own, based on the presence of police officers and men wearing suits and special gear.
  2. The building, the cult’s headquarters, had been blown to the ground.



Opening the door before the car was even fully parked, he ran to the area, uncaring of the heat burning his skin almost lovingly. Finding her would be hell amongst the men who patrolled the area. He closed the distance in record time, the training he had long stopped using kicking in to remind him that he was still a soldier.

Before he could get close enough, he was stopped by foreign looking men.

“Turn around and leave, you have no authorization to access this area.” One of them spoke in English while the other translated with a slight accent thinking he didn't understand what they were saying.

Seven joined him, trying to reason with the guards, trying to convince them to let them pass.

“Let me through.” Zen commanded, his voice low, tainted with danger and a promise to use force if they refused.

His hands balled into fists. The guards were armed, one misstep could get him killed.

“This is your last warning.” The first guard raised his weapon, aiming at his chest, and the other followed suit. “Leave now.”

It was, then, when he heard a deep voice screaming Calypso’s name. He angled his neck slightly to the right, trying to look past the guards and saw a man digging through the wreckage desperately, yelling orders left and right. There was a madness in his eyes he recognized, fear reeking from the figure.

Her name was repeated over and over like mantra by the police officers and the agents scouting the area.

Realization was dumped over him like a bucket of freezing water. They were looking for her amongst the rubble. The building had crashed down on her.

There was no way anyone could’ve survived that.

Hot, white rage burned within him, trying to outlast the fear. He tried to push past the guards only to be shoved back forcefully. Something told him they wouldn’t shoot him, not in front of the Korean police, so he pressed further.

“Let me through, she’s in there!” He screamed; his face contorted into fury.

Seven’s words faded into the background. He had felt death, he had _smelled_ it. He could taste the iron of blood on his tongue. Whispers hushed into his ear, telling him he had been too slow, too weak to save her. She was somewhere down there, her body was down there, underneath the fire, marble, stone and dust.

Long had his hands forgotten what combat felt like, but he knew it would only be a matter of delivering the first hit.

He saw red and all bets were off.

He lunged, aiming at the guard’s face and knocking him out with a powerful punch.

Before long, he was surrounded by men who noticed the commotion from afar. He slammed them into the ground, kicked them in the gut, elbowed them in the face and punched them in the ribs. He countered and dodged, experience and memory doing the job for him, reminding him of the dog tags he kept safely protected in a box at home.

Blasts of searing, pain ripped through his knuckles and body as he tried to outmatch them all. He knew Seven was trying to help him in the background as were Jumin’s bodyguards, but they were far too many, far too skilled, far too deadly.

The past clung to him. Back in the army they had called him the White Devil, the untamed power he had held earning him an undefeated reputation. Fast, strong and skilled. Had he stayed he would’ve climbed through ranks like climbing a tree or a ladder.

His body began to grow tired, disposing of guard after guard. At one point, he dissociated, letting his muscles do the work.

In his mind, he remembered her laughter, her smile, her smart mouth, her moans, her hands, her legs wrapped around him, her sweet touches, her words, her scent, her hair. 

Making short work of the guards barring his way, he was left panting and sweating, pain bleeding into his body. These were the men who belonged to her agency, the men who deceived and killed as easily as she had claimed to do. These were the men who descended upon their targets, aiming squarely to end the fight as soon as possible.

A large guard came before him, clearly having assessed that he was the main threat. The wild, volatile card.

The Erinyes, the furies of the underworld, were very, very skilled…but he was very, very fast and very, very angry. He was on the man before he had even drawn a weapon.

The first blow dazed him. The second stunned him. The third made him stumble. The fourth knocked him out.

The fifth was rather unnecessary, but it made Zen feel better.

Panting, he knew there was no way he would be able to fight through them all as they swarmed him, trying to force him to yield, pushing his body to the ground.

“ _Enough_!” He heard someone growl. “Stand aside!”

Like the red sea, the guards parted to let the man through and he was released. He got on his feet as fast as he could, dusting himself off. 

Zen studied the shape that approached him with measured steps. This was the man who had been desperately calling out her name. His hands were covered in dirt, his fingers bleeding. And yet, there was a fearsome energy to him that commanded an unquestionable authority. He instantly knew this was the man in charge.

His skin colour was darker than Calypso’s but beautiful and exotic all the same. He recognized the same dark eyes, the cold look and the posture. There was something about this man that reminded him of her, and yet, there was nothing about her in him. The desperation in his eyes was still there, but his expression was steeled, melted shut into a terrifying mask of neutrality. The path his tears had etched into the dirt covering his face told him he had wept over her.

“Please, you have to let me through.” He pleaded to the one person who could make it happen. “She’s in there, I need to help her!”

“Hyun Ryu.” The man spoke, offering his blood-coated hand. “Not just anyone can beat my men...it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tentatively, he shook it.

* * *


	41. You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you must speak, speak every word as though it were unique. If you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“There are only two lasting bequests we  
can hope to give our children. One of these is  
roots, the other, wings.”  
\- Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe_

* * *

_Gravel crunched underneath the weight of his sole, along with the sickening sound of blood squishing and absorbing into the soil in which it had been spilled. His hand was steady, true to his aim should he require it – a wicked juxtaposition to the wild beating of his heart against his ribcage._

_The place had not changed much from the last time he had been here, still luxurious, still ostentatious, still far too much money spent in meaningless things. The bodies he had left in his wake were new, but they would be removed soon enough._

_Reaching for the doorknob, he could hear weeping inside coming from a baby and their mother. Long ago, he had done a favour, a binding by blood which could never be broken. At the time, the man who had accepted his help had known it would have to be repaid._

_Back then, he had asked for nothing, claiming a concept of ancient culture – as payment for the deed, he had laid claim to something which the indebted did not yet possess. He had expected to never return, yet here he was. Which brought him back to the present, where he could hear the couple arguing inside the room._

_The man had been an informant to his agency, and he had gotten involved in things he should’ve never been made aware of. Consequences had come, delivered at his doorstep with a promise of blood, but the promise had been broken by a silent shadow in the night._

_Alistair had decided to keep him as an informant despite the foolishness. Destiny would have a way of proving to him that it would be both the stupidest and the best decision he had ever made._

_When he was called upon by the informant once again, he had known it would’ve been better to let him be terminated. Exposure of such lengths did not fare well for him; it was reckless and unnecessary. Yet he answered the call to protect him._

_Swinging the door open, the couple turned to him. The woman began arguing in Czech, the man spoke in French – both trying to reason with him._

_They had not known that whether he listened or not, death would be coming for them, only not by his hand or command. You didn’t dance with the devil unless you were certain you could keep up._

_Standing above them, he had seen the baby wrapped in a beautiful silk blanket, cooing at him with her arms outstretched. She couldn’t have been older than a couple weeks._

_And against her unknowingly dead parent’s wishes, he laid claim to her and disappeared before personified consequences arrived._

* * *

Slowly but surely, his agents arrived, one by one, carrying civilians on their backs. The police officers who had assisted the attack also carried with them as many people as they could.

Overseeing it all, he had known the case was much bigger than it seemed. He often had an instinct about such things. The chief of police, clearly excited to be working with an agency of their renown, stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back and a satisfied look in his eyes over a job well done.

His daughter was the best agent he knew, despite her tendency to emotionally lean on certain targets. Deadly, silent, cold but so nurturing, sweet, and warm at the same time. Part of him regretted shoving her into his world instead of letting her choose.

The last of his agents came out and he raised an eyebrow as she approached him. “Sir.”

“Yes?”

“We’ve evacuated the civilians, but we have not heard from 401 since she activated the signal.” The agent informed, taking off her helmet and looking at him with concerned blue eyes.

Despite the polyvalent cognition his mind went through, he only nodded, keeping his expression concealed behind a long-mastered poker face. “Contact her, let her know you’re done and tell her to finish her mission.”

“Yes, sir.” The agent disappeared.

Recognizing the sound of the weapons his agents used was second nature, and he had not been worried when he heard gunshots. 401 had been trained harder than any of them, she was good at her job. He believed in her.

He saw the lights, the shadows moving within the chateau, and then it stopped. Pulling his _Boxi_ device, he checked for 401’s vitals. Her heartbeat was quick, but still alive. Calm began settling in his mind.

The earth began to rumble, and his head shot up from the device. Mercilessly, he felt the heat.

He knew what it was before it happened.

Blue flames exploded from the rooftop, and as he stepped towards the building, all logic and reason forgone, he watched as it crashed down. The cupola fell, with its tinted glass and metal. He watched her vitals go dead.

When he made a move to run towards the collapsed structure, his agents held him back as he screamed and fought them. He may have been past his golden years, but they forgot who had trained them all. One by one, his agents fell to the floor.

And he fell on his knees when he realized that, realistically, she wouldn’t have been able to survive.

The fire slowly receded with the dust and dirt the agents and police officers threw over it. The bombs had been strategically placed, to explode and destroy the main pillar holding the building together. He cursed the woman who had been behind it all.

As soon as it was safe to start digging, he stood tall and proud, barking orders left and right to look for survivors amongst the rubble. It had been left unvoiced, but the people under his command knew exactly who they were supposed to be looking for.

Shaky fingers joined in on the search as he desperately called her name, tossing rocks much heavier than himself aside.

Surely, destiny would not tie them so closely just to sever them apart.

* * *

_He sat in his office, looking over reports he wasn’t truly heeding any mind to. His husband sat in front of him, a fairy tale from Heptaméron on his hands, and the aroma of peaches in the air coming from a steaming teacup resting on his desk._

_Even from where they rested, they could both hear her weeping. Ian had wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but Alistair had told him not to. She had just returned from her first mission, and he knew she had taken a life. His husband, ever shining, would’ve never been able to understand what she was going through – not by his own fault, he was innocent._

_Sending her on that mission had been critical for her to complete her training. From childhood, she had been trained to kill – both psychologically and physically – but it would never compare to having real crimson on your hands, warm and historical._

_It took every ounce of strength and determination in his body to keep himself and his husband locked away in their office, but it was slowly being chipped away as he listened to her heartbreaking sobs. She was his baby, his daughter, no matter how hard he had tried to not get attached to her._

_He stood, surprising Ian, and nodded. His partner nodded in return, understanding dawning on his beautiful eyes._

_Standing before the bathroom door, her sobs became louder. His heart ached for her, and not for the last time, he regretted ever forcing her to become the same thing as him. She could’ve become a teacher, a musician, a businesswoman, a baker. It didn’t matter – she wouldn’t have known the pain of being the reaper, one of the Erinyes._

_Calling for her, he received no answer. Sighing, he opened the door and his gaze landed on her form. She was fully clothed, her combat gear sticking to her body from the water that cascaded above her._

_He walked in, shrugging out of his jacket, and draping it over the marble bathroom sink. Then, he rolled up his sleeves and took off his watch. He walked slowly, as though giving her time to tell him no, to tell him to leave – but she didn’t._

_She didn’t say a thing as he opened the shower door and simply sat down next to her._

_It was silent, the only conceivable noise was the water pounding against the tile, and it stuck his designer clothes to his skin but still – he didn’t speak._

_“There’s blood in my hands.” She severed the silence with a broken whisper that tore at his heart. “I can’t get it off.”_

_He took her hands in his, gently turning them over, and watching the contrast of their skin. If there had been any blood on them, the water had long since washed it away with her tears. But he understood the subtext behind her words, and he didn’t reply. He wondered if she saw what he saw, if she grieved for the little, innocent girl she knew, the girl she would never be able to be again._

_Them, he turned them over and laid kisses on her palms, cleaning the imaginary blood away, accepting her sins along with his own._

_She blinked at him vacantly, with red eyes, still aching._

* * *

His throat was raw from unanswered calls, from the pain torn from his voice with each passing second she wasn’t found.

Her smile was but a vague memory. His mind was trying to protect him from it, from the ache it would bring to remember he’d never see it again.

Bleeding hands still searched in the debris, and though it caused him pain to worsen his injuries, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. If he didn’t find her alive, he’d find her body.

What would he tell his husband? His doting, understanding, loving husband who waited for him at the hotel, probably chewing his own nails under the influence of anxiety – it never got easier for either of them. One had to leave, and one had to stay behind, waiting for the other to come back despite having no guarantee of such a thing.

How could he tell Ian that their baby had died during a mission he had given her? How could he tell him that she’d never taste his food again? That she’d never cook fish and chips beside them again? How could he hope to come back and share his bed knowing he had led her to her death?

He’d walk inside of their home, listening to the ghost of her laughter and her music. He’d walk into their living room to find pictures of her everywhere. He’d walk into the kitchen to find a horrible paper snowman she had made as a child during the holidays, but that they both loved so much. He’d walk into her bedroom to find the posters of bands he would never admit to liking. Her ghost would be there, waiting for them when they returned home.

Too lost in his own thoughts, he had almost missed the commotion happening a few meters away from him. Slowly, he turned his head to analyse the situation and his heart skipped a beat when he recognized the man who was bringing his agents down with surprising strength and ease.

Shakingly, he stood, leaving a trail of blood as he approached his men.

“ _Enough_!” He barked, clasping his hands behind his back. "Stand aside."

They parted to let him through, and he found himself looking down at the man who Calypso had held feelings for. Truly staring at him, he understood why his daughter had fallen for him. He was an attractive man, beyond the constructs and archetypes that flowed through every person.

Starlight hair held in a bun, wine dark eyes looking up at him in wonder. He could see the strength underneath his clothes. A soldier, he realized. He had forgotten about it.

The young man stood, dusting himself off. _A_ narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to determine his intentions – but he could see the wild desperation they shared in his gaze. A feeling he had trouble placing, but that frightened him when he realized the depth of it. Love.

“Please, you have to let me through.” The young man spoke, taking a step closer to him. When his men noticed it, they tensed, ready to pounce. He signalled them with his hand to be at ease. “She’s in there, I need to help her!”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart and locking his feelings away as best as he could before speaking, knowing his voice would break otherwise.

“Hyun Ryu.” _A_ monotoned, offering his hand and wincing inwardly at the blood and wounds on it. “Not just anyone can beat my men…it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Trembling, the actor took it and shook it with a careful grip.

“I…you have to let me through, she’s there… _please_.” Hyun faltered, letting go of his hand, unbothered by the blood coating his own. 

Part of him argued it was a horrible idea, but he understood. Part of him knew that someone who cared for her would search with as much determination as he had.

He didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was dead. He didn’t want to accept it. He dared not accept it. He dared not remember the straight line of her vitals.

Wordlessly, he nodded and stepped aside, motioning with his hand. He ordered his men to restrain the others, he'd deal with it later.

* * *

_Autumn had arrived, and with it, the scent of chocolate and spice. A storm raged outside, thunder breaking against the ground and lightning taking with it the electricity that coursed through their walls in the shape of cords._

_Suicide’s “Surrender” played in the background, the vinyl going around and around on the record player. The sound of dice hitting the mahogany wood of the coffee table brought him back to reality as he watched his husband move his piece on the board nine spaces._

_“Alistair, sweetheart, Atlantic Avenue is yours, how much do I owe you?”_

_He looked down at the yellow card, inspecting the rent prince, eager to collect the money. “That would be…$800.”_

_“Ugh…here.” Ian handed him the money in a dramatic fashion, making his displeasure known. He simply chuckled in response._

_“My turn.” Calypso announced, snatching the dice, and blowing into her hands for good luck. When they landed, she frowned at the sum. “Bullocks…”_

_She moved her piece three spaces, landing on Ian’s property – New York Avenue, proudly displaying a red figurine of a hotel. Huffing, she simply waited for him to announce the rent price._

_“Oh, no…you landed in my property…” Ian mocked in a sing-song voice, lifting an orange card and pointing at the price. “That’ll be a thousand, honey.”_

_“Oh, shush! You were just waiting for this, weren’t you?” She argued, laughing at his antics._

_He watched them bicker, reaching for his teacup and sipping it, the strong taste of Earl Grey easing his mind. It had been a long time since they had been able to enjoy simple family time. Dinner sat in their bellies, comfort brought by the fireplace in the background and the candlelight lighting the room._

_When his turn came, he reached for the dice. He analysed his odds and realized he was close to bankruptcy. To be fair, this had hardly been his best game. Resignedly, he threw the dice. He knew there was no chance he was going to win this one. The true competition was between Ian and Calypso._

_He landed on Park Place and grimaced inwardly at the red figurine. This was it; he had lost. For a spy, he had been terrible at managing his strategy._

_Calypso smirked devilishly, lifting a blue card and grinning. “I’m willing to bargain.”_

_His ears perked up at that. “Oh?”_

_“Give me Reading Railroad and I’ll let it slide.”_

_Glancing at her cards, he knew he’d be a fool not to take the deal, but his pride didn’t let him. Instead, he flipped card after card, selling his soul to the bank in order to pay her._

_Ian cackled in the background. “Your pride will be the death of you, Alistair.”_

_In the end, he lost, and so did Calypso._

_Much later, they turned the record player off in favour of listening to Ian pluck at a guitar and hum soft tunes. Curled up on the couch, he watched his daughter’s lost gaze. He nudged Ian gently, motioning with his head to her, and Ian nodded._

_“Are you okay, honey?”_

_She lifted her head at the term of endearment and smiled sadly. Shaking her head, she straightened her posture and let the blanket pool at her hips._

_“I’m quitting the agency.”_

_He dropped his teacup._

* * *

Hyun looked through the debris with a fearsome determination, with energy he had long lost when he faced the possibility of her death.

Slowly, he joined the actor, his hands aching and coloured. He’d find her. No parent should have to bury their child. Tears slipped from his eyes as he searched.

With each passing minute, he knew their chances of finding her alive diminished.

He had sent her to her death. She had quit the agency, left it all behind – for fuck’s sake, he had been the architect of her new life – and he had dragged her back. It was all his fault. He should’ve let her leave to her island, let her enjoy the scent of lemons and cherry pie.

It had been selfish and necessary at the same time. He had not wanted her to leave, and she had been the only agent qualified to go through with the mission. He could’ve done it himself, but he had not wanted to lose her.

A sob escaped him when he was no longer able to lift the debris with his hands. The pain had become unbearable and his ruptured skin would resent him for his actions. If he could trade places with her, he would.

Surrendering to grief, he wept in silence, his head hung low as he heard the agents looking for her. It made him wonder if she had died because of the smoke or the fire…had a pillar fallen over her? Had she suffered? Had she called for her father in the dark?

And when he turned to the actor, his heart broke. Tears stained his eyes as well as he called her name. His love for her was clear, unchallenged. She’d never get the future she hoped for with him. Alistair knew she had wanted a normal life, to marry, have a dog, and a white fence. To work a job she loved and one day have children of her own.

Ian always told him he’d be a great father and an even greater grandfather. He’d been stripped away of the opportunity when tinted glass slashed her skin.

Vaguely, he registered the sound of exclamations. It wasn’t until he recognized the actor’s distinctive voice that he stole a glance at him.

Immediately, he stood.

Hyun had found her amongst the rubble and the darkness. Carefully, the actor reached down and scooped her up gently. Her head lolled back, causing her hair to flow like a carob waterfall over his arm, strands of it brushing in a butterfly’s caress against his hand.

There was a brief pause, when his entire world stopped, as he watched for signs of breathing. When her chest slowly rose, he closed his eyes and cried in relief. The actor made sure he had a good hold upon her, then gradually rose to his full height, taking every precaution to not stir her any more than he absolutely must.

One of her hands dropped to hang limply at her side with the upward motion while the other rested across her stomach.

She breathed in, life flowing through her, and stirred.

He thanked destiny as he ran to her.

* * *


	42. Iris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I don't want the world to see me 'cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Only do what your heart  
tells you.”  
\- Princess Diana_

* * *

Surrounded by the aroma of ethyl - an artificial sort of air, far too clean, far too pure and distilled – the events that had rushed past him blurred together as he attempted to rewind time in his head.

His elbows rested on his thighs as he hunched over, his hands holding his head in place as he tried to work his way through the emotions that overwhelmed him. The feeling of being smothered took over, grazing through his skin softly, as if he were at the bottom of a pool, bereft of sound and consciousness. Everything seemed _so_ far away. Unreal. 

The power that adrenaline had bestowed upon him had long been washed away by the fatigue and worry that plagued him. His hair was covered in ash and he didn’t dare think of what else was in there. Nurses had tried to check on him, to see if he was alright, but he had refused.

A sneeze threatened to escape him, and he held it in, not wanting to disturb the quiet in the halls.

His mind and body had somehow become disconnected after he had been given permission to enter the wreckage Calypso had been under. Truth be told, he had expected the man in charge to order his men to shoot him, but he had seen the raw pain in his eyes. He had said his name as if they had been old friends, as if it wasn’t the first time Zen had ever laid eyes on him.

It didn’t take long for him to fit the pieces of the puzzle together and realize that whoever that man was, he cared deeply for the agent. Bleeding hands, tear-streaked cheeks and a gaze that would’ve made anyone shrink down in terror. He had seen through it all, somehow, despite his own pain and desperation.

Maybe it had been sheer luck that he had found her when he did, maybe it had been destiny or the fates telling him that they both deserved a second chance beyond the hushed whispers they shared in between the sheets and the haze of their tentative and fragile love.

She had been protected by the faithful crossing of two pillars holding the rest of the debris up and away from her. He’d found her with her head hidden in the crook of V’s neck, both of her arms splayed above them as if she had been trying to take the blunt of the hit by holding herself up by the elbows, and her leg intertwined between V’s.

After everything Seven had said, after every suspicion his friend had held for her – she had almost died protecting the man who had lied to all of them. His grudge for V was not as tightly held as Seven’s, but he understood his friend.

The man who had let him in, who later introduced himself as _A_ , had run up to him, cradling Calypso’s face to check on her. He had taken her from him, rushed her to the medical team on site, and ordered his men to seize Seven. He had tried to argue with them, to tell them that Seven had nothing to do with the explosion or whatever the cult was involved with – but they had refused to listen to him. His red-headed friend had barely managed to nod to reassure him he’d be fine before they whisked him away in a black car to heavens knew where. He wondered why they hadn't taken him, as well.

When both Calypso and V were about to be escorted to the hospital, he had pushed his way into the ambulance, unwilling to back down. _A_ had, although begrudgingly, allowed him to tag along. The man had carried the weight of an entire planet on his shoulders. Zen watched from the corner of his eye, as the man held onto Calypso’s hand for dear life, whispering things to her in various languages.

Jumin’s bodyguards had been sent away, as well, with a message to deliver to their boss. Zen had made sure to call him, to let him know that they wouldn’t let him through at the location Seven had given him. He told him to meet him at the hospital. And if Seven wasn’t there to give him answers, Zen would try his best.

So, here he was, sitting in a hospital, waiting for news he didn’t know he’d get. _A_ had told him to wait in the hall, that he’d be called in when she was awake – and he could do nothing more than to listen to him despite wanting and needing to be by her side when she awoke.

His phone vibrated in the pocket of his pants and he pulled it out, unlocking it and checking the RFA Messenger. A message from Yoosung and Jaehee. How could he possibly talk to them? Knowing what he knew, would he lie? He would buy both Calypso and V some time – it was the least he could do with the information he had.

The messages he had sent to cover for them when he found out about Calypso’s identity mocked him as he read them. So unused to lying, he had told them he had saved her, taken her to his apartment. He had made a show of it with Seven, telling him to do better – and she had also been forced to play along so as to not blow her cover any more than she already had.

He read both Jaehee’s and Jumin’s messages – the latter before they were forced to tell him the truth. When had Calypso found the time to answer to them? There was so much about her he didn’t know. She was beautiful, smart, and so _terrifying_.

It was hard to believe it had only been a couple of hours since he had stormed into Rika’s apartment to try and save her from a foe she didn’t need saving from.

Shaking his head, his eyes widened in surprise at the words before him. He had been so preoccupied with other things that he had completely forgotten about the Echo Girl scandal. Yoosung had found a witness, the goldfish-shaped bread seller, Mr. Kim, to prove his innocence.

Yoosung also told him about being sent screenshots from her text conversations with someone – telling them about her plan to destroy both Jumin and him. Her manager had also been a part of it, while her father had secretly paid good money to make sure the story was spread far and wide – to guarantee their reputations would be destroyed. Because, how could he deny his beautiful daughter what she desired?

The student had claimed they had been sent from an anonymous source, with only the letters CL to credit the sender. It brought a small smile to Zen’s face, aware that those two letters could only belong to one person.

She had been looking after all of them, hadn’t she?

Finally, he scrolled to the bottom of the chatroom, reading the most recent messages. They were from Jaehee.

> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Mr. Han, do you plan to  
>  return? We have paperwork to complete  
> for tomorrow’s party. _

He wondered if they’d actually host the party after the truth was revealed about both V and Calypso. How had so much happened in so little time?

Still, he worried for Jaehee, knowing she would probably pull an all-nighter doing the work Jumin had left unattended when they had called for him. He texted his reply, wincing at how easily the lies slipped from his fingertips and into the screen.

> **_ZEN:_** _Did he leave you again to  
>  do all the work?_
> 
> **_ZEN:_** _That jerk!_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_** _He left in a hurry,_
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_** _claiming he had urgent matters  
>  to attend to. _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_** _I guess there’s no choice but to  
>  complete this on my own. _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_** _How is Calypso doing? She must  
>  be exhausted after today._

He bit back the knot that formed in his throat. She was in a hospital bed, with a dozen of nurses coming in and out of her room and almost fifteen agents protecting her door and watching him. _A_ had not offered news from her – after entering the room with her and V, he had not left it. Zen was forced to stare at the door that separated his love from him in the VIP area of the hospital.

They had put V in the same room as Calypso. He knew enough to understand it made easier to keep watch. The foreign agents eyed him warily from time to time, unsure of his intentions. He spoke English, he was certain he could easily explain to them what he was doing there – but he was too damn tired.

All he wanted was to collapse into the same bed as her, to wake up next to her and never leave her side. She had almost been torn from him by debris. By marble and metal, by ashes and dust, fire, and smoke. It had been a miracle both the RFA leader and she were alive.

> **_ZEN:_ ** _She’s okay. She fell asleep after  
>  a while. I’ll protect her, don’t worry._
> 
> **_ZEN:_ ** _You should probably get some  
>  rest too, Jaehee. We all have to be  
> in top shape tomorrow. _
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Thank you, I’ll finish  
>  this as soon as possible so I can head home._
> 
> **_Jaehee Kang:_ ** _Then, I’ll be leaving._
> 
> _Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom._

His attention was brought to the present as he watched a blond man rush into the hall. He wore elegant clothing. His beautiful, tapestry belted trench coat floated behind him as he made an attempt towards the door.

Zen tensed momentarily. He didn’t know who this man was – he seemed to be around the same age as _A_.

“I swear on everything I love in this fucking world, that if you don’t let me in right now I will make your lives a living hell!” He exclaimed at the agents that stood between him and the door, trying to restrain him.

The agents gave each other a confused glance.

“For fuck’s sake, _A_!” He pushed an agent aside and banged on the door. "Don't make me use my mother's adrenaline!"

It didn’t take long until said man opened the door. A chastised look crossed his face as soon as the man looked at him. “Ian, I…”

“Move.” He ordered, surprising power in his melodic and pleasant voice. “I need to see my baby.”

He could do nothing but watch helplessly as _A_ let the man into the room and closed the door behind them, locking it.

That man must’ve been Calypso’s…father? Possibly a family member. He had no way of knowing. She had hidden so much from him. Hadn’t she told him her parents had died? Had it been a lie?

Letting out a sigh, he surfed the web aimlessly, trying to find any news about the explosion. He found none. It didn’t even faze him – for he knew the public wouldn’t find out about it unless the police and Calypso’s agency wanted them to.

A bar appeared at the top of his screen with an incoming call from Jumin.

Standing up, he walked out of the VIP area, and answered the call. Coming to rest against a glass railing overlooking the rest of the hospital, he finally found his voice.

“Hello?” He asked in greeting.

“Where are you?” Jumin’s curt voice came through the other side of the phone.

Zen didn’t have it in himself to argue, so he simply sighed. “I’m outside the VIP area. I’ll wait for you here.”

Pocketing his phone, he watched the doctors and nurses walk through the halls from where he stood. They dedicated their lives to saving others, to protecting life and, if unable to save it, making the transition as easy and calming as possible. It was truly admirable. 

He looked up at the ceiling, admiring the beautiful but simple designs decorating it.

Supressing and compartmentalizing his feelings were the only things he could do right now, in the maddening face of uncertainty, in the face of Thanatos, in the face of time's arrow moving forward.

Footsteps announced Jumin as came to lean against the railing beside him, facing the doors to the VIP area and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Where’s Luciel?” He asked, not wasting any time.

“They took him into custody.”

The heir remained silent, processing his words. “Well, what can you tell me about this Calypso being a secret agent nonsense? Is it true or was this one of Seven’s pranks to get me to send him a car and bodyguards?”

Taking a deep breath, he focused his gaze ahead, watching the lights and the people passing by. “It’s true.”

“So, V didn’t investigate her enough.” Jumin sighed. “Where is she?”

Finally, Zen rose to his full height, mimicking his friend’s pose. “In a hospital room, guarded by a dozen agents from her agency.”

“You knew?” Jumin raised an eyebrow.

They had long crossed the Rubicon by telling Jumin to send a car over, so Zen closed his eyes for a second and made up his mind. He truly hoped she wouldn’t be punished for this. He’d willingly take the fall with her if it happened.

Long ago, he had mused over the implications of love and obsession. The fatality of it when it was unreciprocated, never to be returned – and the power of it when it was mutual. It was the kind of love people read of and dreamed of but never saw. It was a wicked and sinful need to possess each other within their limits and their boundaries.

In the edge of such love, he forced himself to tell everything to Jumin – keeping only what he could keep so he could have the story make sense. The onyx-haired man merely listened, nodding his head, and occasionally humming to indicate he was paying attention.

He could see the betrayal in his eyes, the pain and the emotions the man would never express for fear of the unknown. Part of him knew he would never recover, none of them ever would if they all found out the truth. He had revealed all but one thing: their…sexual rendezvous.

After reaching the denouement of his monologue, he chose silence to envelop them like a warm veil. His mind drifted off to Seven. Was he okay?

“I’d like to speak to them.” He simply said.

“To whom?”

“V and Calypso. I need to hear it from them.”

Zen nodded. At this point, he cared very little for what V had to say but he yearned for the agent.

“Shall we?” Asked Zen, motioning to the glass doors.

Jumin walked ahead, taking a seat and keeping an indifferent expression on his countenance as he stared back at the agents guarding the door.

Side by side, they remained motionless, waiting for something…anything to happen. His patience continued to be chipped away by worry and anxiety. What if something had happened to her? What if she had internal bleeding? What if he had found her far too late?

“Should we cancel the party?” Jumin asked suddenly, reaching for his phone.

Frowning, Zen was at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to say. He could always give the conference another day, making sure both V and Calypso were okay couldn’t wait. She had worked so hard for it to be perfect. They had spent night after night talking about it between their conversations. She had gone all out despite it being smaller than normal. What would happen to the guests?

Despite being in the middle of a mission, she had planned an amazing party.

“I…let’s wait until she wakes up.” He settled.

Jumin nodded and proceeded to check his emails, making the most of his time. He was probably assisting Jaehee.

Minutes ticked by; each grain of sand pulled down by gravity into the bottom of the hourglass. He had been struggling to stay awake by the time the door finally opened and _A_ stepped out of the room with a faraway look on his face.

“She wishes to see you.”

* * *


	43. Swan Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say good night to the life in the world we live, I'm going to follow you. If that's what we want, we could just get lost.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to comment or leave kudos. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Fortune always favours the brave,  
and never helps a man who does not help himself.”  
\- P. T. Barnum_

* * *

Numbness, the flow of water beside her ears. There was a featherlike touch in every corner of her body, caressing her into an eldritch realm of consciousness she didn’t recognize. She saw nothing, tasted nothing – yet she was strangely aware of the skin that seemed to crawl from her. As if she screamed underwater while everyone stood by the shore and waved.

There was a chill running through her veins, paralysing, and forcing her into a stillness she wasn’t certain she could run away from; an ennui that cradled her lovingly, rocking her.

Almost lethargically, she gained awareness of her body. She wished she hadn’t – for when her hips split apart and the smell of iron reached her, she knew something was amiss. A pained cry was torn from her throat as she felt fire burning her from within, as if something was trying to crawl out from between her legs, ripping at whatever tissue it could find.

Her eyes ached as the lights came on and she stared at the grim and strange theatre before her.

Floating in a bed of stardust and light was her own body. She stared at it for a second, estranged from her own self. Tilting her head to the side, she realized she didn’t feel any sort of pain anymore, but that she could see herself on the verge of death as shades surrounded her, their touch leaving a charcoal print on her skin.

It was a cosmic sort of translucent frame. Glittering and shining in a space bereft of light – but it only reached so far before the darkness swallowed it. A dusk so indelible that dawn would possibly never come.

Despite the fact that the woman floating before her eyes was herself, there was something strange about her. So far gone was she in a halcyon state, that it took her a moment to understand what it was. The swell of her belly, the softness that had taken a hold of her body instead of the firmness she was so used to looking in the mirror, the eyeless shadow of her countenance. 

There was a fissure within the stronghold of her shape, dripping with crimson and widening by the screams of the shades who claimed it held no place there. But she kept breaking, diamonds cutting the shades and spilling them like ink. Marble laughing mockingly as it sprouted a garden from the torn and broken surface.

Waves came, surrounding her, drowning a body she wasn’t inside of – but she felt nothing and the shell of herself didn’t react.

With their retreat, came the vines. From the fissures in her skin, sprouted grass and flowers. From the blood spilled, came a soft light. Her stomach, still round, coiled deep. The meaning was elusive, hung around but never forming. A fruit too ripe.

From the velvet she was bestowed upon from the moment she was born, she could feel the knots coming undone – green vines suturing her left to wander around her form. She could see, but she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was not hers, it belonged to the known stranger before her.

She felt the hands inside of her grasp at whatever they could, the shape of them pushing against her skin, a petroleum trail left wherever they touched. Small hands, smaller fingerprints marked upon her like ink. The faithful disposing of a generation and the rumbling of knowing mountains.

Everywhere they touched, it became disfigured only to return into stillness. Up and up it went, trying to escape. A chorus of shades chanted for it in silence.

The aroma of passionfruit filled her senses, and up her throat, a boy crawls up headfirst. Covered in petals, silvers strands of hair on his head with a bleeding hood – a caul - turned, waves of pitch black sand in his eyes – bleeding and blending with an emotion she didn’t know but that called to her.

He blew away in a gust of wind, smoke, and sugar.

From the last fissure in her body, the throat torn and the mouth open, a flower blossomed out – powdered gold covering it and overflowing from its white petals and mauve nectary, to the purple tips and the yellow anthers.

With a sense of longing, gravity returned and pulled her back.

* * *

Groaning, she shifted, trying to get comfortable. She really needed to lay back on alcohol, she had a killer hangover that would surely dumb her down for the rest of the day. First things first, she’d eat something healthy to avoid puking, then she’d go back to bed, possibly email the retail agency on Skópelos about that apartment near the port, she needed to brush up on her Greek and –

The beeping of a machine brought her back to reality. She wasn’t back in England.

She felt the warmth of a hand on top of hers and opened her eyes slowly, the action turning out to be much more difficult than she had originally anticipated. Turning her head to the side, it took her a couple of seconds to recognize the worried man next to her.

“Dad?” She croaked, wincing at the sound of her voice.

“Oh, _thank fuck_.” Ian breathed out in relief, placing the back of his hand on her forehead. “How are you feeling, child?”

“I…I’m okay…a little sore.” She added truthfully. Her memory was a little fuzzy, it was taking a great deal of effort to remember. “What happened?”

Ian shook his head, standing up and pouring a glass of water, intuitively knowing what she needed. He brought it to her lips, helping her drink. “You might want to explain, Alistair.”

Calypso turned her head slightly, trying to get a glimpse of her father. He looked exhausted, guilty, terrified, and relieved – as if he had gone through hell and somehow survived. Lowering her gaze, she noticed the light blood stains on his bandaged hands.

Ian also looked exhausted, he had bags under his eyes. It was so uncharacteristic of him, of his normally flawless and flamboyant image. He looked at her with love and concern, caressing her cheek gently. “It’s pure luck that you’re alive, you _idiot_. You’re just like your father.”

She couldn’t help the pained chuckle that escaped her lips as she sat up. Ian assisted her immediately, his hand on the lower part of her back, then he sat beside her, grabbing her hand to anchor himself to her.

 _A_ came to stand before her, his hands clasped behind his back to conceal his injuries. She could see the cracks on his mask, would’ve been able to recognize them if she had looked in the mirror. They were similar, too alike not to understand each other in silence.

“What is the last thing you remember?” He questioned, his eyes softening as he inspected her from afar, not daring to come close.

“I…” She frowned, trying to remember.

From her side, she heard another machine beeping. She turned to it and stared at the man sleeping on the bed next to hers. It rushed back to her, then, the events of the last couple of hours. A shaky breath escaped her, filled with relief. She had saved him.

Finally, she turned to _A_ once again. “I eliminated our target, but she triggered a bomb. The chateau collapsed. Is that correct?”

 _A_ nodded, then sat beside her on the unoccupied side of the bed. He hesitated as he reached for her hand, and she completed the rest of the journey for him, carefully interlacing their fingers together, the material of the gauze rubbing softly against her palm.

He began to recount the moments after the building had exploded. She could hear the pain, the guilt and anger in his voice – but she said nothing, only squeezed his hand gently to avoid hurting him.

Two crossed pillars, made of marble, had saved her. She could barely believe how lucky she had been, for physics to bless her in such a way. They had given her the antidote of the drug, a much more powerful concentration of it, to avoid side effects, after they had found her. After _Zen_ had found her.

She could barely believe _A_ had let him help.

Tears glistened in his eyes, a million unspoken things and speeches they could’ve told each other transmitted in the way he looked at her. The warmth of having them both beside her felt like coming home – a time where she had thought they would never be able to return to. The soft light from the lamp in the background united them.

“I love you.” She whispered to them, smiling.

“And we love you, honey.” Ian replied, looking into her eyes, his voice breaking slightly. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

They fussed over her for a bit, making sure her pillows were puffed, making sure she wasn’t cold. Truthfully, she didn’t feel all that bad. The closest thing she could compare it to was the soreness after a particularly thorough workout. She had inspected the area where Rika had shot her only to find a nasty bruise over her scar.

The side effects of the drug had been minimal, resulting in the difficulty processing information she had faced when she woke. She had been found in time.

A doctor came in to check on her, under both of her fathers’ watchful eyes, and had told her she was good to go. Both Ian and _A_ had attempted to argue, but she had shaken her head. She didn’t like hospitals – they brought her memories of war she would rather forget.

She was free to leave whenever she wanted, but V wasn’t. They still had to detox him from the drug. He had been exposed to it for a very long time. Not only that, but they would perform the surgery he desperately needed on his eyes.

After the doctor left, she steeled her expression, hoping to be as objective as possible so she could plead her case and deliver her strategy as best as she could to her mentor. She had saved the man for a reason, she had done everything for a reason.

 _A_ listened to her intently when she spoke, nodding occasionally to let her know he was listening. She could see his hesitance, but she continued on, her arguments becoming more solid as she went on.

When she finished, he nodded at her, smiling – and she knew she had won.

They agreed to provide V the psychological help he would need to move on past what he had experienced – essentially taking away most of the blame from his shoulders. He was no longer ruled out as a suspect, but as a victim, someone who had been coerced to act as he had. Other agents would work to make sure that Mint Eye was truly gone.

Saeran, after everything he went through because of Mina – or Rika _or_ Serena, Calypso no longer knew what to call the woman – was also labelled a victim. The agency itself would provide the psychological and psychiatric help he needed. And Luciel, poor Saeyoung, would be released from custody after he told them what little he knew. _A_ had suggested contacting his agency to suggest an alliance.

The rest of the RFA members had never been involved, so the suspicions against them were disposed of.

Before going back out into the world, they had to travel within of themselves.

Once she was satisfied, she asked her father to let Zen in. He had tried to object, but a glare from Ian had made him shut his mouth. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and opened the door, speaking to the young actor.

Dread filled her, knowing she had left him alone after they had just made up. Would he be angry at her now that the danger was gone? Did he hate her for leaving? Luciel had told her that he wouldn’t forgive her if she left, was he right?

When he entered the room, covered in ash and dust, a worried look in his eyes – she knew he didn’t. Ian closed the sliding door that separated her from V so he wouldn’t hear their conversation and dragged _A_ out of the room, muttering something about real coffee and not the watered down trash they had in the hospital, and promised to return soon to take her home.

The word “return” had left a bitter taste on her mouth – but she remained silent as they closed the door behind them and left her alone with the man who had turned her every desire and belief upside down in favour of a life she had never dared dream of.

He winced at the sound of the door closing and the orders _A_ was clearly barking at the agents guarding her door.

She tried to keep a poker face as he stared at her with a mix of emotions. He settled on one and strode all the way to the side of her bed, grabbing her face gently and kissing her. At first, she was surprised, unable to believe that he had reacted this way, but she soon gathered her bearings and returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down as she laid down.

Once he was satisfied over the beeping of her heartbeat on the machine, he broke it and leaned his forehead against hers. She was speechless, staring into his crimson eyes. He pulled away, taking a seat where Ian had been when she awoke.

“I thought I lost you.” He hummed, his gaze never leaving her face.

“I heard you found us.” She smiled, aware of how naturally he had caused the action. “Thank you.”

He blushed and looked away in embarrassment. “I...I’m just happy you’re okay.”

She closed her eyes for a second, knowing she had some apologizing to do. When she opened them, he was staring down at his hands. Had she broken his trust to the point of no return? Was there any way for her to make up for it? Their hushed promises between the sheets seemed so long ago. A whole lifetime ago.

“I’m sorry.” She said. It didn’t seem enough, it would never be enough. “For _everything_. For leaving, for lying, for…almost dying.”

Chuckling humourlessly, he shook his head. “The last one wasn’t your fault.”

Her brow furrowed but she had a cheeky smile on her face as she joked. “It kind of was, though. Just a _little_ bit.”

“Don’t say that.” He scolded despite the small smile on his face.

For a moment, they stayed in comfortable silence as she reached for his hand and held it. His heartbeat drummed against hers, synchronising to a rhythm of their own.

“My father told me you took down a couple of out agents.” She commented, trying to lighten up the mood. “Not just anyone can do that.”

This time, she actually made him laugh. “It must’ve been the adrenaline. Your...father?”

She nodded. His eyes widened slightly and he smiled sheepishly.

“You never told me you were a soldier.” She added. “I mean, I _knew_ , but I had forgotten about it. You’d think that’s the kind of thing I should keep in mind, but you’ve proven to be quite distracting.”

“It never came up. It’s not like I went to war or anything.” He explained. “I’m just on reserve. I guess the training never did go away.”

She reached out with her free hand, tucking a grey strand of hair away from his face and caressing his cheek, wiping away ash from his ivory skin. He leaned into her touch and warmth filled her.

“Thank you, Zen. Truly.” She whispered. “I owe you my life.”

He shook his head, placing a hand over hers and looking down. She was able to pick up the sound of his almost imperceptible sobs. All along, she had held her tears in, not wanting to break down in front of her fathers and make them worry even more. But watching the man she had grown to care for, she was unable to hold them back.

Silently, she cried beside him, bending down slightly to wrap her arms around him as their feelings overflowed. Love and loss pouring from their eyes – memories hanging like ghosts. The faces that lied beyond the halls and the tales they carried.

“I’m okay, we’re okay.” She sniffed, wanting to let him know that she had succeeded in completing her mission. “It’s all over, I promise.”

His head lifted and he looked into her eyes, trying to find any trace of deceit, of doubt. When he found none, he pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “Really?”

“Really?” She giggled, grinning at him. “But there’s things I have to do first. Paperwork.”

Suddenly, a blush rose on his cheeks and he turned away in shame. “I have something to tell you.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “What is it?”

The serious expression on his face made her frown and she nodded, allowing him a safe space to express whatever it was that he wanted to share with her.

“Jumin knows.”

Her eyes bulged from her skull and her mouth dropped. “What?”

Filling the minutes with his narrative, she looked up and sighed – knowing it would be a headache to deal with it. He finished by telling her he wished to speak to her.

Calypso supposed she owed the poor man answers. She had played with him, used him in order to gain information. It brought the matter of revealing who she used to be, after her retirement, to the rest of the members of the RFA. What could she reveal? What would be the least damaging? Would she ever be able to tell them that _she_ had killed Rika?

She sighed but smiled at him honestly. “It’s alright, don’t worry.”

“You won’t get in trouble?” He asked worriedly.

Leaning into his ear, she whispered. “I just retired.”

For the first time since he had entered the room, he looked truly happy. They spoke, catching up a bit, and she told him everything he wanted to know – free of censorship and danger. They'd need an entire life together for her to tell him everything she had ever done.

It was only after a while that the signs of his fatigue began to show.

“What time is it?” She questioned, hoping to get her message across.

He glanced at his watch. “It’s 5AM.”

“Hey, why don’t you head home and get some rest? You look exhausted.” She offered, squeezing his hand.

All along, he had not let go. “I’m okay. I’ll leave when you leave.”

“You’re impossible.” Smiling, she shook her head. “I just have to sign the papers and walk out of here.”

“Then I’ll wait.” He argued.

Suddenly, his eyes widened.

“Should we cancel the party?” Zen asked, pulling his cracked phone out. She guessed it must’ve gotten ruined during his struggle with the agents.

She got the urge to whack him in the back of the head. She had worked hard for that party! Hell, she had aimed to plan a better party than the woman who had shot her! She’d be dead before they cancelled that damn party. His reputation depended on it.

Waving her hand dismissively, she shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’m okay, I should be able to attend.”

He tried to reason with her, telling her she needed to rest, and she told him that she had run off into the battlefield with worse injuries. She could endure a little bit of ball dancing and socializing. It took some time to convince him, but he begrudgingly gave in. She just told him to set a different time, nighttime would do, the guests would have to understand.

When her fathers returned, she let them know she still had things to do.

She sent them invitations to the party, eager for them to attend.

And discharged herself from the hospital.

With Zen beside her.

* * *


	44. Verses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life was not aware of me and I wasn't aware of life. Now its flames, they warm my heart - they light the path towards her.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“You know you're in love when you can't fall  
asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”  
\- Dr. Seuss_

* * *

He had wandered behind her shadow, lost in a trance. He had been forced into the car with her fathers, soft hands guiding him as he dissociated. The blond man with expensive clothes introduced himself as Ian and complimented his bone structure, fussing over him. Telling him how amazing he'd look in the cover of a magazine. 

_A_ , who introduced himself once again as Alistair, had merely nodded in acknowledgement. In the backseat of the car, he played with the edges of his own ash covered clothes, trying to calm himself down over how ridiculous it was that he felt nervous. He had seen the way his husband had tensed when he revealed his name. 

That had not been how he had expected their first meeting to be. In fact, after finding out who she was, he had not expected to ever meet the people who had raised her. She had claimed that her parents were dead.

And yet, as he stole a sideways glance at Calypso – because he dared to do no more in front of her caretakers – he couldn’t help but to feel as if it made sense. Somehow. 

Jumin had intercepted them before leaving the hospital. Her fathers had stood in front of her, shielding her from the heir. It had taken everything in Zen not to laugh at how Jumin’s normally stoic and confident façade crumbled underneath the weight of the stare of two equally tall and intimidating men. He hoped he’d never be on the receiving end of it. 

Calypso had gently pushed them to the side and signalled for them to remain calm – the unspoken language born from years of sharing the same life and experiences surfacing. She had held Jumin’s fiery gaze, an impressive poker face on her features that gave away nothing and promised to talk to him before the party. He had raised an eyebrow at that but accepted her answer, shaking her hand as if they had just completed a business transaction.

There had been an understanding between them that he had not been able to place entirely, a look and hunger shared that made him wonder just how much they knew each other.

But as he got in the car and closed the door, and she rested her head on his shoulder, intertwined their hands and allowed herself to sleep – he knew they couldn’t be threatened. Nothing real could be threatened. 

He was even more surprised when they parked in front of the most expensive hotel in the city. They had given them a room of their own and Zen could’ve sworn they saw the blush that rose all the way to his cheeks. It was clear how different their cultures were, and they were amused by it. He had bowed slightly in thanks and Ian had merely told them to enjoy themselves and get some rest for the party, with a cheeky wink added to the mix.

Lost in a trance of silver dust, he followed her as she guided them to their bedroom. Going back to his apartment was out of the question – he had understood that much by the look Alistair had given them. They both needed rest. The sun was rising by the time they had settled into the room.

“Hey, are you okay?” He heard Calypso ask, noticing the concern and worry in her eyes.

“I’m…just processing everything.”

She smiled sadly, nodding and taking a seat on the bed. “I’ll answer every question. I promise.”

He’d lie if he said he didn’t want answers. What had happened inside of that building? Had she found Rika, or had she truly been dead? Where were they holding Seven hostage? Would his friend be okay? Could she truly stay? He had heard every word the blond man had said to her, claiming that he couldn’t wait for her to return home – and his heart had crumbled a little bit with each sentence.

“I’ll take a shower, okay?” He announced, stepping into the bathroom, amazed at the luxury of it.

“Do you want some company?” She joked. Heat rose all the way to his cheeks, despite already having shared her bed, as he noticed the seductive smirk on her lips.

“I’d love that.” He smiled, winking at her. “But…rain check? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her chuckle to put him at ease warmed his heart.

The water washed away the events of the last few hours, from sweat and sex to ash and dust, blood and smoke. Fear and fury. 

Images of her, barely breathing underneath the debris flashed in his mind and he grimaced, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. He’d been able to do nothing but watch as her father took her from his arms and forced her mouth open, pouring a golden liquid down her throat.

Despite his insistence, he couldn’t help but to think about the _what-ifs._ What if he had been too late? What if they had given up on the search? What if the bullet that decorated her vest had missed the fabric altogether and hit her? What if the walls crashed her underneath their weight? What if she had died protecting V? What if she decided she wanted to go back into her line of work after experiencing an average lifestyle? What if he wasn't enough for her? 

He watched the water turn black, brown, and crimson until it was simply transparent. His hair go from gray to white.

Dwelling on what was out of his control wouldn’t do him any well. All he wanted to do was climb into bed and hold her forever, to protect her from the world who had turned her into something she claimed to despise. She deserved everything. She was all and so much more than his mind could ever conjure from the depths of his imagination.

The lights shined, paper moons hanging over his head as he wrapped an indigo towel around his body and brushed his teeth with one of the toothbrushes the hotel provided. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he realized he didn’t have any other clothes he could change into. He didn't want to wear his dirty clothes to bed and sleeping naked was out of the question. 

His breath got caught in his throat when he noticed she wasn’t in the room. Desperately, he scanned it for any clue of her, for any indication of her whereabouts. Time slowed down for him as his mind went into a crazed frenzy of worst case scenarios. Fear gripped and forced him into stillness, crawling up his throat and numbing his body.

The soft click of the door brought him back to reality. “Hey…sorry, I realized you didn’t have any spare clothes, so I burrowed some from Ian. You two should be about the same size...I think.”

She handed him the clothes and frowned when she noticed the haunted look on his face. Carefully, he placed the clothes on top of the bed and pulled her into him, embracing her and inhaling the sterile aroma of hospital on her hair. It didn’t even bother him, for he could feel the traces of her natural coffee scent and mint from her breathing.

“I thought you were gone.” He whispered into the top of her hair, holding her even closer.

Silence was her only answer as she wrapped her arms around his naked back, her fingertips digging into the skin she had torn apart during their tryst with gentle care. There was an unspoken history she carried in her actions, the touch of a past filled with drowning oceans pulling her into their ebb and flow.

Finally, he let go of her, once he was certain that she was real and not a fragment of his imagination. Of an alternate reality. 

She wore an oversized man’s shirt. It sparked a flash of jealousy, but he recognized the aroma faintly as the one of her fathers. He changed quickly, inwardly cursing at how expensive the brand he was about to wear on his body was. Like a river, it flowed away as they climbed into bed and let the duvet cover them like the pelt of one of her preys, wearing it as fire to warm them.

They lay, facing each other, with eyes filled with an emotion he yearned to express. The sun’s rays filtered through the curtains softly, giving her an aura of divinity as he committed every inch of her skin to memory. She could stay with him for now or she could stay with him forever, and he’d still cherish every second of his time with her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked suddenly, breaking the silence with her fatigue-coated voice.

“I can wait until you’re feeling more rested.” He countered, aware of the bags underneath her eyes that made her no less beautiful – they added to her humanity, to the fact that she was just as fragile as he was. "It's alright."

She scooted closer, dragging the duvet with her, until her face was only inches away from him, the minty scent of their breath mixing. “All is well. I’ve done much harder things with less sleep.”

The smile that came from him was a pained grimace. “Okay…”

“Ask away, handsome.” Her hand came to rest on his cheek. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

For a long time now, the back of her head had been at the front of his mind. Dreaming of things, he knew he had no right to see but he yearned for anyway. He had a million inquiries, a billion possible answers branching from the things his fears and desires whispered to him. He craved the feel of her skin against his, her heartbeat against his chest because it was the only way he could make sure she was alive and safe, between his arms.

“Start from the beginning.” He simply said, knowing that there was no other way to begin the journey he was about to embark with alongside her.

And she did. She spoke of being raised by her adoptive fathers, of being trained to kill, influence and deceive, of past lovers and black bags, of a mansion in Sicily and the scar that decorated her side, of her blood turning into alcohol and a gun to her temple underneath the waterfall of a shower. She spoke of torture, of pain and opening skin. She spoke of shadows and nightmares, of haunting faces and phantoms. Of screams and cries, of monsters and men.

But she also spoke of beauty and pastries. She spoke of the feeling of sand underneath her feet, of hot springs and silk sheets. She spoke of cherry pies and red doors on an island, of retirement and her newfound interest for party planning. She spoke of white fences and dogs. 

Her voice lowered and her gaze lit up when she spoke of him, of what he’d done to her with every smile and flirty joke. She spoke of lives she dared not dream of but that seemed so close with him next to her. She spoke of desire and hesitated when her lips closed before she said “love”. She spoke of regret at lying and hurting them. She spoke of her mental struggle, of the battle between her heart and brain. 

She finalized by telling him everything about her mission. Everything she had found, every person she had seen. Marble floors covered in crimson, the sound of bullets falling to the ground with each trigger pull. Blonde locks stained in red, cyan eyes filled with tears.

When she told him, she had been the one to kill Rika – his heart had stopped.

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes as she retold the scene to him, her hands covering her face in shame and fear at his response.

A mix of emotions overcame him as he realized, for the first time, he was in bed with an assassin, someone whose hands overflowed with blood that didn’t belong to her. It was a harsh bucket of ice water over his reality. She could make him shiver without warning, and this time was no exception as he watched her tears slip through her fingers shielding her face from him, locks of hair falling over them. Fingertips that had caressed him had cut into skin like butter. Hands that had intertwined with his had wrapped themselves around necks and twisted them. 

He could tell she was unused to expressing her emotions freely, he remembered talking about it with her on one of their first phone calls. There was no handbook for these situations.

Before him, he was presented with two options. Either he could leave, let the her past overshadow the future he had designed with her, or he could stay and let her tell him how to love her. He could forgive and learn with her.

His body decided before his mind could as he lovingly reached for her hands and pushed them away from her face so he could gaze into her eyes. She trembled in fear of what he’d say, and he couldn’t help but to pull her close to him, her head against his chest.

“I…I’m going to need time to process it, okay?” He assured her. “But I’m not going to push you away because you were doing your job.”

And that was it. She had been doing her job. She had attempted to negotiate but Rika had been far too gone in her madness to understand. It pained him so much. How the mighty had fallen victim to their own demons. Why had Rika not sought help? Why had she chosen to destroy and set everything she had loved on fire? 

“Tell me if I’m wrong or if I’m right.” She whispered, burying her face in his chest. “I know very little of normal living. I need someone to guide me, to teach me how to fall in love the way you want me to – no looming threat of doom this time.”

She choked out a laugh as he pulled away slightly and wiped away her tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Then teach me how to help you through your nightmares.” He added. “Teach me how to become a safe place for you, to love you.”

The word escaped him before he had the chance to hold it back and push it back to the cage where he had attempted to keep it locked away all along. He saw the moment her eyes widened, and her mouth parted slightly. He could almost identify the twenty seven human emotions rushing through her gaze at the speed of light until she settled for surprise.

“We might end up driving each other crazy.” She joked.

For the first time since the whole incident, his chest rumbled as he chuckled. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Bringing the top of her hands to his lips, he peppered them with kisses. To love the skin the crawled from her, the blood that would never wash away.

He’d have to ask a million questions to understand her, but he knew he could do it. Despite the monster she described herself to be, he could see past it. He could see the inherent good flowing through her veins like light. She was more than she thought herself to be. 

Loving her would be easy, for she made it easy. Long ago, he had faced a latent omen of the power they’d hold over one another – and in the face of it, there was nothing more to utter than her consent for a kiss.

Their lips connected, slowly, tentatively, gently. The urge to spill those words was killing him, but he promised himself that once the whole mess was over, he’d officially ask her to be his partner. The exclusivity of her embrace would forever be his own to possess.

“Are you ready for the party tonight?” He changed the subject, aware that they needed something lighter to discuss. They were both exhausted. Emotionally and physically. 

The way her eyes shined at the mere mention of the event made the entire ordeal worth it. With her palms on his chest, she smiled. “Absolutely, it’ll be fun.”

Between small talk and gentle caresses, between apologies and jokes, she fell asleep in his arms.

Her heart was against his chest, beating to remind him she was still there. Her lips were pressed to his neck and he could do nothing but bask in the power of his feelings for her. His hand ran up and down her arm, until it was nothing more than a drawing of imaginary patterns or wishful dreaming of what his surname would look like beside her name.

He had always been a hopeless romantic, always dreaming of a love so real that it would eclipse all else. The feeling heightened powerfully as he realized this was the first time she had ever fallen asleep beside him and wouldn’t be leaving come the morning.

There was so much they would have to face together; he knew there were things she would never be able to talk about and there were things he’d rather not know. But he understood, and he knew, without a single doubt in sight, that they’d be able to get through it. He believed in them, and a part of him, somehow, also knew she did as well.

As sleep began to take him, he broke his promise, whispering into her dark locks while she slept the promise of what was about to come.

“I love you.”

* * *


	45. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I'm alone I feel your ghost. Your presence is known, I already know too much. What you did in your past life, it's no business of mine. Look at the trouble I'm in, I could've avoided this mess if I'd wanted you less.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Sex is the only consolation  
you have when you can’t have love.”  
\- Gabriel García Márquez_

* * *

The red sole of his shoe tapped against the cold marble floor to the rhythm of his watch’s arrows going forward as he stared at the curtains covering his balcony from afar. He had, for the first time in a while, taken a day off work. Long had his phone stopped ringing with the calls of a woman he had refused to marry.

His father had given in and chosen him instead of his girlfriend. He had been taken aback, unused to such rational behaviour coming from the old chairman. Of course, getting rid of his engagement had brought along another set of problems he’d have to deal with later on, but he was content as he was for now.

There was soft blue haze around him as he sipped his glass of red wine. It was a vintage collection, but he couldn’t remember the name. The electrical curtains of his apartment were closed, the light glinting from the water tank in the corner, surrounding him in navy. He shivered, letting the cold in.

Scenes played back in his head, almost erotically, as if a blue film was laid bare before him. All truth he had known had been burnt to ash, turned into mocking obsession. Turned into a hurricane of thoughts collapsing into each other, trying to determine where their reality had gotten lost in the emission of their conversations.

The special agents who had been guarding the room where they were keeping V and Calypso had refused to let him in – even after he had offered to pay them generously for their trouble. It seemed as if everything that had to do with the elusive woman he desired couldn’t be bought. It irked him to no end, but he had forced himself to let it be.

So, he sat in his apartment, minutes after getting off the phone with her, wondering just how dangerous she truly was. She had fooled them all, used them for her own means. It was not something he could easily forgive. He had warned her that they had put their trust in her, that the information she acquired through the chats should never be divulged.

He was no stranger to loopholes. She had never shared the information to the public, but she had been actively keeping track on all of them.

There was a hint of admiration and respect. She was a magnificent player and that had made her the object of desire. The queen of their chess match. She had said anything just to hear what she wanted, lied to be forgiven, sold everything to buy who she wasn’t, killed her way to heaven.

Seven had told him what little he had been able to afford with the time he had. A special agent, a spy, a murderer – whose goal was to find V and bring him to justice.

What had V done exactly? He had known more than the rest of the RFA, had known the real reason behind V’s upcoming blindness. He had known his friend had been gone on a soul-searching journey, but why had he been the target of an intelligence agency?

How much would she be able to disclose to him? It didn’t matter how much she revealed, for the real question hammering his head was if he’d be able to handle it. V was alive, and he’d eventually have to get answers from him. For now, he was stuck listening to one side of the story – the one side he feared the most.

The truth from V’s lips would be coated in sugar, and his friend would justify it had been because he had been trying to protect them. But the truth from the agent’s lips would be raw and destructive, like wildfire.

“She’s here, sir.” Came the voice from his bodyguard.

He smiled mirthlessly at himself, unable to hear himself echo words of events past. “Let her in.”

Reaching for the small controller next to him, he opened the blinds, letting the light filter through, the sun setting and warming the apartment with its last rays of blood orange fire. Even before he turned around, he heard her heels clicking as she approached him.

The sweet aroma of coffee reached him before she did, enveloping him intoxicatingly, jeeringly. He had always been good at measuring odds and risks, but he could feel the balance shifting in her direction. He was powerless underneath the influence of her presence.

Sultry as ever, her seductive voice broke the silence as she halted. “Mr. Han.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Emerging victorious from this situation would be impossible, he was helpless against her – and he had a feeling that his heart and body had known all along. She was a polymath, a master player of every field she entered.

For now, he held the advantage, so he motioned with his hand at the armchair before him for her to sit and signalled at his bodyguard to leave. Whatever was said to him, no one else had to be in the room when it happened.

The guard closed the door behind him, not without giving him an odd look. Only when they were truly alone did she come to stand on his field of vision. He tried to ignore the way his heart beat wildly against his ribcage as she sat seductively before him, crossing one leg over the other, gifting him an eyeful of her skin from the slit in her pencil skirt.

His heart tore itself apart, clawed hands shredding his dignity, pride and courage. Could she hear his melancholy too? He had sat in a puddle of his own misery for so long that he no longer held any knowledge of living and breathing along with the rest of the world.

She remained silent, waiting for him to speak and he felt wholly visible, cut open to the quick by molten stone and laid open for the one he desired the most to see.

His skin warmed, burned like rum on the fire, flames controlled by her gaze alone. How had this woman, whom he had barely known, been able to render him so weak? What had she given to him? Just what made her so different from the rest of the women in the world? _The lies_ , his mind provided.

And yet, he had never been taught to say no to this. He had the sudden urge to grab his father by the shoulders, to shake him and beg him to teach him how to say no to her, to reject his desires. But his father had never learned either, so he was stuck reliving a legacy of untameable and magnetic elán. He was stuck loving her skin and the fantasies it created.

“You promised me answers.” He spoke decisively as he poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her, trying to ignore the feeling of her fingers brushing against his.

A pained grimace painted her countenance as she shifted in her seat slightly and placed her hand over her side. It didn’t surprise him that it was gone as soon as it had come, replaced by a poker face so cold it rivalled the Antarctic Plateau.

“Very well.” She replied, sipping her wine, and stealing a glance at her watch. “Ask what you want to know.”

He had not expected such willingness, but he nodded either way. “Let’s begin with V and Luciel.”

“I can only reveal so much.” She warned before she continued, her head tilting to the side, her hair following her. “The agency suspected V was behind the disappearance of two individuals who were investigating the mystery of Rika’s death. They were linked to him by the RFA and their personal involvement with him, he had the clearest motive. I was tasked with uncovering the truth and bringing the person responsible to justice.”

He gulped down the contents of his glass and poured more, the crimson liquid rising with the waves of its sum. Ingesting the information had been easy, but he knew processing it would take a lot more time – even after she was long gone.

“And did you?” He feigned nonchalance.

She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him in amusement. “I did.”

“Was he the one responsible?” He asked, unable to keep the worry and hope from his voice.

“He was not, but he was involved.” She explained. “He’ll have to pay his dues.”

Jumin opened his mouth to argue, to come to his friend’s defence despite not having enough information. He hated him for hiding so much from him.

But she held her hand up. “I negotiated a deal with my agency. I gathered enough information to set him free, but he will be held accountable by other means.”

Steeling his expression and forcing his voice to do the same, he questioned her. “How?”

“He was…under unique circumstances, he can’t be entirely held accountable for things he had no control over under the influence of certain variables.”

Her vague and pleonastic answers told him she was hiding so much from him. He’d probably have to pull the information from V. If he ever saw him again. He swallowed as he felt the heat rise to his head, the anger overflow from the emotions he constantly kept locked up.

“And Luciel?”

“I was also investigating him. He was the main threat to my mission, for he was the only one with the tools to figure out who I truly was if I slipped. We thought him involved, as well, but he was also a victim.” She bit her garnet lips before adding her next words. “So was his brother.”

His eyes widened slightly at the revelation, but he tried his best to conceal it. It wasn’t his business, but he was dangerously curious about it. Zen had only told him so much. Once again, he’d have to ask someone else for that information.

So, he asked what he could, carefully designing his questions to make sure she’d answer them, filling the gaps of the story that hadn’t made sense to him.

Avoiding the true query on the tip of his tongue became harder with each passing second. The more he stared at her, the more he realized she was timeless, priceless. Her defiance was enough to keep him silenced, enthralled.

Her skin glistened with the last rays of the sun as if she was peppered with morning dew, enveloped by a bronze glow. He had promised himself that he’d let go of his desire, of his fantasies and the need to possess her. Speechless, in a state of decay, he realized he hadn’t been able to.

His obsession and love for her ran deep inside of her bones, unknown of where it resided. It felt like hot coal underneath his feet. He had never stopped hoping, and with that hope, came the resentment of her deceit and subterfuge.

“You lied to all of us in order to gain information.” He stated, uncaring to hide his anger.

She didn’t even need a second to answer him, as she lifted her head slightly, proudly and narrowed her eyes. “I did.”

Had her words to him been lies? Had her touches been nothing but a job to her? Had she known that he’d crumble with the hint of her skin? What had made Zen so special that she had decided to use him as a main source of information? From what she had told him, it would’ve made more sense to seduce Luciel…or even him.

It dawned on him that she had done so. She had sat through dinner with him, she had let him catch her when they fell to the floor. Every move, every word of hers had been coldly measured and calculated, with a goal set in stone.

Then why had she not picked him? Why had she not chosen to get lost in his bedsheets instead of the actor’s? For once in his life, he understood how Zen felt. This time, the actor had something he would never be able to have, something he couldn’t buy. He could’ve given her everything, bought her the entire city, taken her wherever she wanted. He had always said more or less the right things to her. She had never said she didn’t want him, but she didn’t have to.

“Are your affections for Zen a lie?” He concealed his question as best as he could.

His question caught her off guard and her mouth parted invitingly as a subtle blush rose to her cheeks. She chuckled softly, her shoulders shaking and smiled at him.

“I care for him genuinely.” She stated confidently. 

He nodded, hearing his heart breaking despite having expected her answer. “Your mission is over, how will your relationship with him work?”

“I just retired.” She explained, a playful smirk drawn on her lips.

There were too many stories behind her short answer, and he had a feeling that she’d never voice them. “I understand.”

She finished the contents of her glass and stood up, walking to the sliding door that separated the apartment from the balcony and opening it, giving him a maddening view of her back body as she did. Looking back at him, she smiled devilishly. “Care to join me?”

There was no need to answer as he stood up and came to rest beside her against the railing as they both overlooked over the gated community and the city.

They stood in silence, watching the sun set, until he realized that there was a possibility she’d be staying. Neither Yoosung nor Jaehee knew who or what she was. What kind of lie would she have to conjure?

“Assuming you’ll be staying…” He began, watching the way her body reacted to his implication. “What are we supposed to say to the rest of the RFA?”

She let out a weary sigh, and looked at him in the eye, drowning him in the everlasting darkness of her gaze.

“As much of the truth as I can afford, but I’m afraid there are things I can’t reveal. Secrets that I’m legally obliged to keep. As is V.” There was a passing hint of nervousness in her gaze. “Do you think they’ll take it well?”

He gave her an uncharacteristic shrug. “They’ll have to deal with it.”

The sound of her laugh made him feel happy and he hated it a little, because he knew it wouldn’t be him making her laugh most of the time.

“Perhaps you’re right.” She added, shoving him playfully with her shoulder, and returning her attention to the view before them as night began to melt into the sky, darkness returning along with the chill.

There was no redeeming him for the possessive nature of the undisclosed desire he would forever nurse for her, because how far was too far? How much could he hope to have from her if she wasn’t his? He wondered and entertained the _what ifs_. What if she had chosen him? Would he have full access to the story? Would he have been able to pick between her and V?

He allowed himself to indulge one last time.

“Why didn’t you choose me?” He asked suddenly, noticing the way her head snapped to look at him. “Strategically, it made the most sense to pick Luciel or me. Why didn’t you?”

She hummed, thinking about it for a second. “I’m guessing you’re not talking about just information.”

The silence he gave in return gave her the answer. She nodded and placed her hand over his, the diamonds on her ring shining brightly.

“You and I, we’re too alike. Control, power, influence…we _thrive_ in it. Sexually, I think, we would’ve done amazingly. The sex would’ve been mind-blowing every time we fought.” She chuckled at her own words and at the blush that spread through his face. “But if I had chosen to establish a relationship and bond, like the one I share with Hyun, with you…it would’ve crumbled easily.”

He dared a little, inching his face closer to her, turning his body along with it. They stood face to face, close enough for him to lean in and kiss her.

“What makes you so certain of it?” He breathed out - lust evident and pouring from his gaze. “What does he have that I do not? What is it that you want?”

Her hand travelled from his forearm to his neck, pulling him close to her as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “The fact that you have to ask means you could never give it.”

Had she chosen to slap him; it would’ve had the same effect. He tensed underneath her touch but said nothing as she pulled away. Her hand remained in place.

“I see.” He mumbled dumbfoundedly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t share our bedroom.” She hinted, smirking like a succubus. “We’d have to get his approval, of course, but it's a possibility.”

He shook his head, unsure if he had heard her right. Once it settled on his mind, he closed his eyes and chuckled.

It came down to him having to settle for sex if he couldn’t have her love, then. He would take it. “It’s a deal I’m willing to sign.”

“Then you won’t have to spend the rest of your life wondering what I feel and taste like.” She teased, taking a step back and taking her hand with her.

Glancing down at her watch, she clicked her tongue.

“It seems I ought to get going if I plan on making it to the party on time.” She turned to the door and walked to it. “Will I see you there?”

“Absolutely.” He replied, glancing down at his own watch.

“Well, then…” She smirked, waving as she walked out, leaving him alone on the balcony once again. The warmth she carried also left him. “See you there.”

And as she crossed the threshold of his front door, he knew he’d never be satisfied with what she had offered, but that he’d have to settle for it.

Somehow, he was fine with it.

* * *


	46. Dust to Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me in the wall, you've built around. And we can light a match and burn them down. And let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flames in front of us. We've been lonely too long.

* * *

_“I love her, and it is the  
beginning of everything.”  
\- F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

Words rushed past him and the more he read, the faster they went without meaning. He was doing everything in his power to relax, to avoid thinking about the issue at hand. Yet it danced around him like multicoloured streamers, going around and around, shining in the glittering light of their hotel room. He had turned off the television, weary of the romance between the media and consumer culture feeding the lies that had almost filled his lungs with water.

The ceiling lights looked like glass raindrops; small flames suspended in the air.

As he turned a page, the aroma of eucalyptus reached his senses and he inhaled in, closing his eyes to let it ease his worry away. All the tension in his muscles was gone, replaced by the soothing healing properties of the massage he had gotten.

He opened his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the settee, turning his head to gaze out the window. The sun had finally set, and the first hints of starlight could be seen peeking through the hazy frame of the clouds.

In a few hours, he’d be delivering the speech that would either save or sink his career as a musical actor. He could barely believe how much had happened in nearly fortnight. His mind provided the exact number: _11_ days – the number of new beginnings and spiritual awakenings.

Pacing and overthinking had done nothing for him. After Calypso had left for her meeting with Jumin, the nature of their relationship still circling around his mind, he had been left with nothing but his own mind and thoughts. Part of him was certain he would’ve gone mad had it not been for her father.

Ian had come knocking at his door, demanding for him to join him at the hotel’s spa. At first, he had tried to refuse out of politeness, but the man had not given in. So, he was forcefully pampered during most of the day. He had been given royal treatment: massage, manicure, pedicure, facial and as much time as he desired in the sauna.

Much to his surprise, getting along with Ian had been incredibly easy. The man was a former musician, and they had bonded over it. He had also been playfully questioned about his relationship with Calypso. With every minute he spent with the man, he recognized and learned quirks and new facts about her. He had proven to be a fantastic source of information and comfort, a contrast to Alistair's serious nature.

Afterwards, he had been sent to his hotel room like a child with instructions to wait for a knock at the door or for Calypso to return.

Which brought him to the present, feeling the silk robe brush against his skin as he closed the book he had been reading and put it on the coffee table. Lazily, he lied down on the cushions, letting the air conditioner pebble his skin as he waited for something to happen, anything to break him out of his reverie.

He was strangely peaceful once he decided that whether he worried or not he’d still have to deliver his speech. His arm hung at his side, fingers brushing against the soft carpet. In the back, his phone was devoid of life. He had forgotten to ask for a charger.

Frustrated, he tossed around for a bit, trying to make himself comfortable. The manbun he had thrown his hair into applied pressure to the back of his head and he sat up to take it off. Before his hands could even reach for the hair tie, he heard the door click and open.

Silk pooled at his waist as Calypso came into view.

“Hey, handsome.” She greeted, a beautiful smile on her garnet lips. “Did you miss me?”

He stood, uncaring about the material that now hung loosely around him, and came to stand before her. Slowly, he tilted her chin up to him with his thumb and index finger, looking into her eyes for consent before he bridged the space between them with his lips. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and sighing into the kiss in pleasure before he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers and caressing her cheek with his thumb lovingly.

“Hello, princess.” He whispered. “I did miss you.”

She chuckled, a delighted grin on her face as she looked into his eyes and tucked a wild strand of snow hair behind his ear and he rubbed the tips of their noses together.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. Jumin wasn’t the only person I had to tie loose ends with.” She explained, giving him a quick peck, and putting some space between them to take her heels off. Her eyebrow rose when she noticed his apparel. “If I had known you’d be waiting for me like _that_ , I would’ve hurried back.”

Laughing, he slipped his arms through the sleeves, pulling the robe up and back into place. He sat back down and watched her as she put her shoes back in the hotel room closet – where she had unpacked her entire luggage earlier in the morning.

“Who else did you visit?” He asked, resting his elbow against the settee with his face on his palm as he listened intently to her reply.

“I had to free Luciel from his mortal cage.” She joked light-heartedly, winking at him as she unzipped her skirt and pushed it down. “He’s back in his bunker, getting ready for the party. I had some of my father’s men escort him home.”

A blush rose to his cheeks when her underwear came into view and he looked away. The sound of her giggles only rushed more blood to his face.

“You’ve already seen me naked, handsome.” She teased, taking her shirt off and folding it next to her skirt. “How is this any different?”

“I…I don’t know.” He confessed, closing his non-complacent eyes to prevent his curious gaze from drifting. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

The sound of her naked feet padding to him warned him of her upcoming closeness. Her hands came to rest at his shoulders, gripping him through the fabric.

“You’re too sweet.” She whispered reverently, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. “It’s okay, I have a robe on.”

He peeked through his left eye, letting out an audible sigh of relief when he recognized the black silk against her skin covering her, and then opened the other.

“Good. I don’t want the beast to come out.” He joked, his hands on her hips.

Her gaze darkened with lust as the implication of his words entered her mind. “Are you certain?” 

Realistically, he knew that if they ended up tangled up in bed they would be extremely late for the party and that was something neither of them could afford. He had a statement to give and she had guests to greet and manage.

Pulling her onto his lap, he leaned in and whispered into her ear seductively. “I’ll have you all to myself after the party.”

“Very well.” She replied, a mischievous smirk decorating her face. “Shall we get ready, then?”

He nodded, assisting her as she stood up. “Are you sure you’re up for it? You’re still sore, aren’t you?”

Looking down at her side meaningfully, she understood.

“I’ll be alright. I’ve done worse things in worse conditions.” She assured him, her hand coming to rest at the place where her scar and bruise hid underneath the silk.

“If you feel tired at any point during the party, let me know.” Zen offered. "Please."

She giggled softly, nodding her head.

“I promise.” She uttered, looking out the window. “I should probably take a quick shower before getting dressed.”

“Go ahead, I’ll get ready in the meantime.”

With his affirmation, she turned on her heel and walked into the bathroom. She didn’t even bother closing the door as she undressed, got into the stall, and turned the water on. His mind whispered to him that he’d probably have to get used to how liberal and free she truly was. It had been one of the things that had made her so attractive in the first place.

Once alone, he found himself realizing that he had nothing to change into but the clothes he had given to the hotel staff to be washed and dried. He cursed inwardly.

A knock at the door startled him. He walked to it, peeking through the peephole, and smiling when he realized who was on the other side. Unlocking the door, he opened it.

“I see my daughter has returned.” Pointed out Ian at the sound of running water in the background as he handed him a garment bag and an orange bag with a blue ribbon handle. “Let her know we’ll be arriving at the party a bit late.”

“Is something wrong?” Zen asked curiously.

A mischievous smirk that mirrored Calypso’s was gifted to him. He had a feeling he was better off not knowing, but Ian didn’t give him that blessing.

“Trust me, something will be _very_ wrong.” He winked flirtatiously. “But I suppose my husband doesn’t know that just yet.”

“I…” Dumbstruck, he didn’t know what to say as he blushed.

“Now, this is a gift from us. Be a good lad and put it on so I can see you in it before I expire in this bloody hallway.” Ian jested. “Go on, I may moisturise but I’m not getting any younger.”

Zen nodded, closing the door but leaving it unlocked.

Carefully, he placed the garment bag on the bed and opened it. He opened his mouth in silent awe when he touched the expensive fabric of the three-piece suit that he had just been gifted. The word _Zegna_ stared back at him in bold black letters against white.

Aware of the fact that Calypso’s father waited for him outside, he shrugged his robe off and got dressed as quickly as possible, fumbling with the ascot a bit before he got it right. Well, at least he _thought_ he got it right.

Opening the orange bag, he was met with a pair of oxford shoes with a red bottom and a pair of black socks.

He put them on, surprised at the fact that they fit perfectly. _Thinking back on it_ , he mused, _so had the suit_. Not daring to question the man, he opened the door and let him see him.

“Oh, darling, you look marvellous!” He gushed, his hands instantly reaching for him and smoothing the suit. “It seems we’re the same size.”

“How did you know?” He mumbled, an embarrassed blush rising. Goodness, both Calypso and her family knew exactly how to fluster him.

“We had your exact measurements thanks to the agency.” He explained, opening the first two buttons of his shirt for him, pulling the crimson fabric from underneath, and making a complicated ascot. “You’ve got a bit more muscle than I do, but it fits you perfectly.”

Before Zen could answer, he was pushed back into the room and forced to sit on a nearby ottoman. He let himself be dragged around by the man, amused by his antics. It gave him a rustic perspective of what Calypso had probably gone through when she was younger.

“Do you want your hair up or down?” The man asked, freeing his ivory silver locks from the bun.

Confidently, Zen raised his arms slightly with open palms. “Surprise me!”

“I like you.” Ian complimented as he began braiding his locks and decorating them with golden cuffs around them while still letting most of his hair down.

In the back of his mind, he realized how much he would’ve liked for his own parents to be as accepting as Calypso’s. There was no other explanation that could but attributed to it but the cultural differences.

Little by little, he relaxed and closed his eyes as the former musician worked on his hair.

“Well, well…” Came Calypso’s voice in the background. “I see you two got along just fine.”

“You know I get along with everyone, honey.” Ian countered. " _Obviously_."

Zen couldn’t turn to see them, because he knew he would get scolded for it, so he could only imagine the smiles on their faces.

“Except for my nan.” She teased.

An indignation filled gasp escaped him as he brought his hand to his chest dramatically. “How dare you?”

“I speak only the truth.”

“You speak rubbish. Go on, get ready, don’t mind us.” He waved her off dismissively as he turned around and resumed his work. Zen assumed she stood still because after a few seconds, Ian barked at her. “Go on, child!”

Calypso huffed and her footsteps retreated into the bathroom. He couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped him and shook his shoulders as Ian muttered under his breath in his mother language.

“Children…”

Zen remained content letting Ian have his way with his hair. He enjoyed the man’s humming of an unknown song.

It dawned on him how much he craved to have this with her. For the rest of his life, he wanted to be able to witness these small but loving interactions. He wanted to be able to become a part of her family – and to understand all the inside jokes and experiences they shared.

How could he ever hope to go on with his life without it? Now that he had had a taste of it, he didn’t think he’d be able to let go. There was so much love, radiance, and acceptance in their dynamic. It must’ve been what true family love felt like.

“Has she always been like that?” He queried, unable to hold back. “So fiery?”

Ian laughed. “We raised her to be like that, to not take shit from anyone. I love that girl with my entire heart, and, despite our loving spats, I wouldn’t change her for the world.”

“So do I.”

Ian’s hands halted and Zen turned to look back at him in confusion at the sudden lack of contact and comfort.

There was a surprised look on his face that morphed into a knowing smile. Had he said something strange? Had he offended him somehow?

“You do, hm?”

Zen was barely able to squeak out a confused _what_ before he paled at the realization of what he had just told him. If he had blushed in the past, he was certain that he looked as red as a tomato in that moment.

He had just confessed to her father that he loved her. He hadn’t even told her yet...

The thought of having uttered such a statement to him before he even had the chance to tell her made him feel like dying. He wanted to get lost, with her preferably, and never be found.

So, he gathered his courage, told himself that he could only be brave when he was terrified, and looked at Ian in the eye.

“I do. I love her.” He stated, feeling like a thousand mountains had just been ground to dust and made his shoulders lighter.

Ian grinned at him, gently coaxed him back into his previous position and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” A sweet scent of dandelions reached his senses and he could do nothing but nod dumbly as it enveloped him like a warm blanket. “But I _am_ telling my husband, this is too good to not be shared with him.”

It was Zen’s turn to laugh. “That’s fine by me.”

“Good.” Ian added as he took a step back to admire his masterpiece. “I did mighty fine job, if I say so myself. See for yourself.”

Eagerly, like a little boy on Christmas Day, he stood up and hurried to the mirror. Zen was aware of his beauty; he knew he was an attractive man. He used it as a shield to protect himself from the comments of the past. They faded into nothing when he looked at himself.

He looked like an elven prince, the complex braids in his hair giving him an air of royalty and elegance. Reaching with his fingertips, he caressed Ian’s work carefully so as to not ruin it. He turned to the man, a beaming smile on his face.

“Thank you.”

Ian crossed his arms, a proud look on his face. “You’re welcome, Hyun.”

Hearing his birth name sounded so strange, but it felt right coming from him. It felt like…home. Without a doubt, he had the certainty that it was the acceptance and love that emanated from the man.

“You look beautiful, handsome.”

He turned around, the cuffs around his braids like wind chimes with the movement. His breath got caught in his throat in awe at the beauty that stood before him. He was certain of his own, but seeing her, he had no choice but to believe she was divinity itself.

Her eyelids were slightly tinged with a copper shade and white, highlighting the natural beauty of her sun-loved skin.

And as his gaze trailed down, he marvelled at the dress she wore. White until it reached the floor, a hundred flowers embedded into the fabric all the way to her chest and arms. She looked like a goddess of spring, a princess of nature; Persephone reborn. 

Part of him feared Demeter would come and take her and her spring with her. He felt like the god of the underworld himself, keeping her near him in delight. Even if winter ended, and she remembered the dawn, she’d always return to him. Always beside him.

“I’ll leave you two be.” Ian interjected, approaching Calypso and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “See you at the party, honey.”

Not a word was said until the door closed, leaving them alone.

“You look far too beautiful for words to describe it.”

“Then I guess we’ll make the most beautiful couple at the party.” She joked, coming to stand before him, her dress trailing after her like a pelt. "Don't you think?"

Reaching for her hand, he brought it to his lips and planted a kiss on the back of it.

“We will, indeed.”

“Shall we?” She offered her hand to him. 

“We shall.” 

He interlaced their fingers.

* * *


	47. Au Revoir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a game where all of the lives we lead can change. Let's play a game where nothing that we can see, the same. But we'll find other pieces to the puzzles, slipping out under the locks. I could show you how many moves to checkmate, right now. We could take apart this life we're building and pack it up inside a box. All that really matters is we're doing it right now, right now.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_"We are healed from suffering  
_ _only by experiencing it to the full."  
_ _\- Marcel Proust_

* * *

His fingertips drummed ceaselessly against the surface of the metal table he was chained to. The handcuffs holding him in place could easily be broken if he put enough effort into it, but he knew better than to attempt an escape. The thud of bodies still resonated in his head.

Holding his own against the men who worked with the agent had been eventful, for he had never fought with so many at the same time. They had been skilled and deadly, each of them had been aiming for a spot in his body that would render him unconscious.

It had been the thundering of a voice that had stopped the fight and had him dragged away into the metal confines of a car, trapped between the heads and bodies of two armed strangers staring at him with deadly intensity. He had barely had time to reassure his friend he’d be okay, despite not being certain of it himself. For all he knew, they could’ve been dragging him to the middle of nowhere to misplace a bullet to the back of his head.

They had deprived him of his vision, covering his eyes with a blindfold and dragging him to places he couldn’t identify. Once black had turned into colours, he was trapped within a room with only a mirror decorating its walls. A metal table with a water pitcher, a glass and what seemed to be a pack of biscuits in the centre. Two chairs on opposite sides of the room.

The lightbulb overhead flickered as he let out a sigh. He didn’t know for how long he had been stuck inside of the room. There was no way to tell the passing of time since they had stripped him from anything remotely technological – even the hidden gadgets he kept. If they had been able to have their wicked way with him, he would’ve been sitting in the room in nothing but his underwear.

During the first few hours, he had tested the mirror, pressing his eyes against the glass, and cupping his hands around his face to block out the light of the room. Through it, he had been able to make out a blurry room and a figure watching him. He had taken a step back and returned to his chair.

Boredom had gotten the best of him as he proceeded to sing songs, recite poetry, and even create new code by speaking aloud. It would get him nowhere, that much he knew, but he would at least have the pleasure of knowing he had driven whoever was in charge of keeping an eye on him insane before they even got to questioning him.

As time dragged on, he had begun to grow restless. No one had come in and there was no way out of the room besides the concealed door within the concrete walls he had discovered by tapping his knuckles against it.

He had tried speaking to the person on the other side of the two-way glass but had received nothing but radio silence. Eventually, he gave up, sitting in the stillness of the room and letting his thoughts marinate in what they had been running away from.

Even now, as he allowed the cold of the room embrace him in a lover’s spat, he could still feel the flames warming his skin, could still taste the smell of smoke on his tongue, and he could still hear the desperate calls for the stranger he had fallen for.

Fists and bruises, blood and soreness seemed to be the only physical evidence he possessed to convince himself it had been real.

From where he had been forced into the ground, he had been able to see how Zen lifted Calypso from the wreckage. He had seen a pair of strangers lift V’s unconscious body and take him to the same ambulance where they had carefully locked both of the most mysterious people he knew away from the rest of the world.

He didn’t know whether he was alive or not. He hadn’t seen V’s chest rise and fall, but he had been too far away.

No matter how much he asked for information, nothing was given to him.

And despite his own poisonous denial, he knew that V had lied and betrayed him. He had allowed his twin to become victim of a torture he would never get a glimpse of. He had become a part of the cult that had pried his brother’s sanity and innocence away from himself. And the screams he had heard behind the door as he waited for Calypso to finish interrogating him would forever tear at his heart and burn into his conscience.

He had not been there when he needed him the most.

There were a millions places to start and he dared not take a step towards any of them. Scenarios he could run through but that wouldn’t make a difference unless reality decided it was time for him to be soaked to the bone in the rapture of his own naïveté. Once or twice could be written off as a mistake, three times and you knew the true nature of what you were dealing with.

So many lies had slipped from V’s lips right into his lap, where he had nurtured and cradled them as if they had been precious. There had been no way of knowing what would happen once he turned his twin into the care of the two strangers who had saved him. What had made him so worthy of being spared the pain Saeran had gone through? What if it had been him in his place? Would his brother have come for him? To his rescue?

Instead, he let guilt dig its claws into him. Somewhere along the tapestry sewn for him that detailed the blood in his hands and the ever-present pain and loneliness in his chest – somewhere he’d started letting himself believe. Letting himself expect a light, melodic laughter, a canvas of warmth giving structure to experience. Instead, the silence that surrounded him was pregnant with something chaotic and painful. Heavy with an acidic remorse and ruthless anticipation.

On and on, the memories and _what ifs_ came, slashing through him like a hundred knives, right in the muscles stretching through his back, in his pained face, in the ghosts of crimson that had dried on the unforgivable abandonment he had committed to. He let it consume. A blinding, burning sensation coursing through the tissue of his veins – as a tangy stench of heated anger and sharp, bitter hatred settled on his mind alongside fear.

The hissing of a door brought him back to reality as he lifted his head from where he had tucked it safely between his arms to protect himself from the rest of the world.

Suddenly, one of the waves of emotions he had been marvelling at came crashing on him, but it was stopped by an invisible barrier, preventing damage from summer lightning storms and autumn hurricanes driving everything to their eye.

Another massive wave breached through, crashing into that invisible wall, built higher and stronger. He no longer felt as if his lungs were drowning and burning, yet he was still lost at sea.

The barrier grew stronger with each wave that violently collided against it.

And when the water drew back, he saw _her_.

She was the aroma of coffee shops, the colour of Apollo’s caring touch, and every bit the terrifying woman legends spoke of in pages of cruelty and secrets. She stood, towering over him and he had to lift his gaze slightly as he looked into her eyes.

A sick, twisted version of what he had come to love stared back at him with the same loving smile she had only gifted to the actor thrown his way, as if she were compensating for the hell she had already put him through.

The ocean in his head turned into a sinkhole, swallowing him with an emotion he couldn’t identify no matter how much he tried as he stared into the galaxy specks in her dark irises. He watched her take a deep breath, expecting her to set free a slew of elegant yet scathing insults, questions, accusations, or anything that would validate that which he already struggled with. Words that would no doubt play at his heart like she had played them all like a simple game of chess.

He wanted her to lean in and say things that were over the line. Meant to strike, meant to cut, meant to wound.

Yet still nothing came. Even her beautiful countenance, which was normally so expressive in a way equals part frustrating and endearing, betrayed not a thread of emotion.

So, he said nothing as he watched her take a seat. She leaned back into the chair, a sultry and dangerous smirk on her lips, that he finally identified as her façade, as she surveyed him with fascination.

“How’s your nose?” She questioned, a flicker of shame crossing her gaze as she stared at his nose pointedly.

The playful mood she had set for him was all invitation he needed to escape the discomfort of his own mind. “I might send you the plastic surgeon bill.”

Her shoulders relaxed, her façade crumbled like a pastry and gave way to the genuine emotion he knew to be hers.

“I’ll gladly pay for it.” She replied mischievously. “I hope my friends have been treating you as a proper guest.”

“Are you kidding me? There’s no way this is free!” He joked back. “The luxury of these seats and the gourmet dining I’ve been provided speak volumes of English hospitality, I couldn’t ask for a better stay.”

At this, she finally laughed, throwing her head back. He couldn’t help but laugh softly along with her.

“Believe me, this is nothing compared to the rooms where we torture people.”

And just like that, she broke the fantasy once again.

He frowned. “Is that what you’re here to do?”

A pregnant quiet filled the room.

She shook her head. “No.”

Neither of them was a saint, they were sinners. There was no need to sugar-coat whatever would be said between them, no matter how painful or crude. They didn’t want to lose, but they feared for the winner – aware of the secrets behind a victory.

There was a possibility they didn’t believe in each other, but in the last grasping of their encounter, they had no choice but to trust and talk about a freedom that could be negotiated for the right price.

“Then, what are you here to do?” He whispered, looking down at his empty glass of water, willing it to fill itself.

“I’m here to set you free.” She explained, pulling a key from a pocket in her pencil skirt and standing up to unlock his handcuffs. “Despite knowing you could’ve broken these yourself.”

He smiled ruefully.

“And then?” He pressed, rubbing his sore wrists. “Jail?”

“On the contrary, Saeyoung, I’m here to escort you to the car that will take you home.” She said, taking a step back and letting him get comfortable. “The agency would like to apologize for the inconvenience, since when they took you...it was _chaotic_.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that it?”

“And..they’d love to offer you a position or a partnership if you’re willing to talk to your own agency.” She added, her hands folding in front of her.

 _Of course_ , he thought. Assets and transactions, business, and money. “I understand.” 

They both stayed silent for a moment, staring at each other. There was so much that would be left unspoken if they exited the room. They could both feel it. Once they crossed the threshold of the open door behind her, everything left unsaid would forever remain that way.

Yet there was so much he wanted to say to her.

“We are willing to cover for the expenses of Saeran’s recovery.” She stated, taking a step closer to him, and handing him a transparent business card with black letters etched into it. “You can be as involved as you want. Not only that, but we will help both of you settle into a more comfortable life if that is what you desire.”

“Thank you.” He uttered genuinely. “How did you get your agency to agree to this?”

“Aside from your brother being an important witness…I convinced my father to pay for it so we could repay for the pain I caused.”

Confusion etched into his features as he frowned. “What?”

A sigh travelled past her garnet lips and she took another step closer to him.

“I have a lot to atone for. I used all of you for information and I hurt you. I know I can’t ever take it back, but I can try and make it better.”

There was something she wasn’t telling him, he could tell. He hadn’t spent an entire week watching her not to recognize that something was amiss.

“What did you do, Calypso?” He finally demanded, taking a step closer.

She breathed in and closed her eyes. With masterful craft, he could do nothing but stand idly and watch winter settle over her features as she prepared her statement. 

When her eyes opened, there was no emotion in them.

Her expression steeled, cold indifference set into place. “I was the one who fired the bullet that killed Rika.”

In that split second torn between the gap of space and time, he was almost certain of the fact his heart had stopped. He gulped, unsure of the reality presented before him. He had known her to be a killer, but he had never expected to gaze into the crimson pages of her overflowing Odyssey. 

“…you did what?”

“She was the mastermind behind Mint Eye, behind your brother’s torture. She had been toying and drugging both V and Saeran. My instructions were to bring her to justice _dead or alive_. When she threated to kill V, the only man who could prove your innocence, I was forced to take her out.”

She took a deep breath and continued. He had to look away from her.

“What I’m telling you is confidential information, and I will answer every question that may arise. You will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before exiting this room, but you will leave knowing the truth of what happened. The truth of Rika’s fate will be a secret kept between V, Zen, you and I.”

His gaze snapped back to look at her. “Zen knows?”

In lieu of an answer, she nodded. There was nothing more he could ask that she would answer, but he had a good idea why she had told the young actor.

A torrential storm of emotions flooded him, as he went through stages of grief he didn’t even know of. There was so much anger brewing inside of him directed at Rika for causing his brother so much pain. There was the bitter taste of betrayal as he thought about V being able to stop it but never doing so.

“Is V alive?” He found himself asking before he could stop the words from coming out.

“He is.” She stated. “You’ll be able to talk to him after the party. I know there’s a lot you two have to sort through.”

Something told him that their impending reunion wasn’t the agency’s doing but hers. “Thank you.”

He took another step closer and they were face to face, inches apart.

Indulgence was the god heroin prayed to. She was like a drug, no matter how much he pulled away, how much he tried to convince himself that he couldn’t have her, he still found himself wanting her just as bad as the first time he had understood the depth of his feelings.

And he would hate himself for being so selfish, but he just needed to have this one thing before he forced himself to move on. To let withdrawal and its painful history do its job. To let her run back into the arms of another, someone who would care and cherish her as she deserved. 

So, he closed the distance between them with his lips. She tasted just as he had imagined she would: _unattainable_ with a hint of honey and cinnamon.

She didn’t reciprocate, her lips didn’t move against his, but she let him indulge – for he would never allow himself this again. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, drawing her closer. Something wet collided against the skin of his cheeks, and he knew he was crying.

He had given her a piece of himself and she had reciprocated with as much as she could afford. But the rest of them? He would have to pick them up and put himself back together. From the way she had looked at him, he knew she would be there to hold the glue if he needed her to. He would forever love her, but he had to choose himself. 

When he pulled away, she smiled at him sadly and pulled him into her warm embrace.

There, he let himself weep.

* * *

He stood beside Yoosung, Vanderwood and Saeran in front of the mirror, playfully shoving each of them to the side as they finished suiting up.

Explaining to Yoosung that he had a brother had been easier than he had originally thought it would be, but he had found himself flooded with relief when the student’s reaction to his twin brother had been welcoming and warm. Somehow, he knew that it would all be just fine. He'd have a lot of explaining to do, and Calypso had provided for him a cover story should he need it, but part of him yearned to tell as much of the truth as he could to the rest of the RFA. They had been his family when his own had been hidden. 

He fixed his tie and clasped an amber ornamental jewel on it. There was a lot of pain he’d have to work through.

Outrage preceded grief, in order for the pain he had gone through to diminish or become manageable, he had to release the pain of the past. It would never go away, and neither would the traumatic memories.

As he stole a glance at the magenta fabric of his brother’s suit and the blue rose pinned to the lapel – he made himself a promise that he would make sure to voice to his kin once everything was done. They were faced with a new option for the first time in their lives – that of no longer behaving like a victim and instead create a new sense of themselves as loving and valuable people.

They could start living, knowing that their life belonged to those who had lost theirs so they could live – and he would have to face V to do so. Still, he was hopeful about what awaited all of them. For he had the certainty that as long as they stuck together, nothing would be able to break them.

And as they got into the limousine Jumin had sent for them, he hoped the best for the future. Hoped that they would always have the confidence to do their best and follow their hearts, and that their todays were the worst of their tomorrows. He hoped that they loved in infinite ways and that they owned each moment to the next, always staying in the present because that’s where they could find each other.

For once, he hoped that love would come to him once he healed.

For once, he truly felt the weight of depression loosening the hold on his neck.

For once, he felt truly happy.

* * *


	48. The Edge Of Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hot to feel the rush, to brush the dangerous. I'm gonna run right to, to the edge with you where we can both fall far in love. I'm on the edge of glory and I'm hanging on a moment of truth - out on the edge of glory and I'm hanging on a moment with you.
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“Be happy for this moment.  
This moment is your life.”  
\- Omar Khayyam_

* * *

She silenced her phone for the rest of the night, aware of the fact that she wouldn’t have any need for it. The sun had already been pulled by Apollo’s chariot, hidden underneath the cloak of navy until it was its time to rise once again.

The city lights outside of their limousine sparkled, hurrying past her vision as the vehicle moved.

From her peripheral vision, she noticed the champagne flute that was being handed to her. She turned to Zen with a thankful smile and carefully grabbed it, unwilling to stain her dress. She raised it to her lips and pushed her face accessory to the side. She raised an eyebrow at the apple taste of it.

“This isn’t champagne.” She pointed out accusingly.

The sound of his laughter echoing and bouncing off the walls of the car chased her annoyance away. Slowly, she lowered the flute to the cup holder and forced herself to keep her poker face on despite wanting to laugh along.

“Sparkling cider.” He explained, raising his own glass. “Ian told me not to let you drink any alcohol tonight. _Doctor’s orders_.”

Rolling her eyes, she sunk into her seat and crossed her arms, the fabric of her dress rising with the movement and filling her face with flowers. She pushed them down with the palms of her hands grumpily. Zen’s loving gaze was on her as he gently helped her push the fabric away.

She had survived an entire building crashing down on her, and they wouldn’t let her drink? It was unfair. She would be suing. 

Her annoyance melted away completely when she felt the actor’s lips on her cheek. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She whispered.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the hotel building where Jaehee had decided to host the party. The limousine parked in front of the entrance, greeted by the flashing lights of cameras. Paparazzi and reporters lined the entrance, held back by security.

Zen held his breath, a frown decorating his beautiful features. His tension radiated off him in waves and she couldn’t help but to feel bad for him. No one but the RFA would know the truth until it was time for him to hold the press conference.

Until then, he was still a monster in the eyes of the public. She reached for his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, conveying with her eyes that she would be there for him every step of the way. Then, she pulled her hand away, knowing she could show no signal of affection to the media or they would only add more fuel to the fire.

It didn’t even take for the car door to be fully opened before the exclamations and screams began, calling for him.

“Yes, the musical actor, Zen, will be getting off that white car!”

He stepped off the car first. A cold mask of neutrality concealing his inner turmoil to the rest of the world. The chanting of various activists began, cursing him for the alleged harassment. But so did the voices of his fans, supporting him.

“This is absolute chaos…” He whispered to himself as he offered her a hand to help her get out of the vehicle. “We have to get inside as soon as possible.”

She exited as gracefully as she could, donning an emotionless expression as soon as the attention focused on her. They began questioning her, as well. Throwing queries, compliments, and harangues her way for being there beside him. How she wished she could simply pull her phone out and show them the evidence of their lies.

The camera flashes were unfamiliar, and she had to resist the urge to flinch, so unused to the spotlight. Her place had always been in the shadows, not the light. She gifted the photographers a few small smiles while Zen answered their questions as best as he could without cracking in anger.

Security came to their rescue, ushering them inside. The words that came from his mouth entered her system, but she wasn’t fully processing them. This was the first time there would be any evidence of her existence out there.

A voice from behind them called for him, and her attention was once again directed to the present.

“Zen! I’m glad you made it through the crowd!” Jaehee exclaimed, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she approached them.

They spoke of security and her duties before the secretary’s attention was on her. Brown, calculating eyes sizing her up. She almost felt exposed as she looked down at her, trying to keep a neutral expression.

“Calypso, nice to meet you.” She greeted, bowing slightly. “I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

She bowed back, flashing her a charming smile. “Likewise, Jaehee.”

A blush rose to the secretary’s cheeks and she counted it as a win.

“We’re all going to see each other often now, anyway.” Zen grinned, craning his neck up trying to look past the sea of guests. “Is everyone else here?”

Jaehee nodded. “Yes, everyone is here except for V.”

Calypso shared a knowing look with the actor before concealing it. There would be time to unpack that after the party. Zen noticed her discomfort and redirected Jaehee’s attention to the matter at hand.

“Hm…alright. I’ll have to focus on the press conference for now. It’s pretty nerve-wrecking to see so many reporters.” He stated, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back, reassuring her he had her back as she had his.

“Oh!” Jaehee’s eyes lit up. “You have to come backstage for the press conference right now.”

A panicked look crossed Calypso’s gaze as she turned to him. He smiled at her reassuringly. “Alright, should Calypso come too?”

“Wouldn’t it be better for her to watch you from here?” Jaehee shook her head, readjusting the clipboard she held in her hands before turning to Calypso with a kind look. “You’ll have to be on your own backstage, as well. It would be safer for you to stay here with the other members.”

Realization dawned on her when she remembered that she didn’t know the truth. Jaehee still thought she had almost been kidnapped. She resisted the urge to snort. 

“Very well.” She conceded, taking a step back and nodding at Zen in reassurance.

“I’m afraid I’ve got a few things to check, so…” Jaehee trailed off, looking for someone in the crowd. “Oh! That’s Yoosung over there, right? Yoosung!”

Her own heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. She’d be meeting Yoosung for the first time and she could barely hold back her excitement.

“Yoosung! Come here!” Zen called, waving him over with his hand.

Calypso did everything she could to stop herself from turning to look at the college student as his footsteps approached and his voice called. “Why are you so late?!”

He came to stand beside her and blinked in surprise when he realized exactly who he was looking at. He craned his neck up slightly to get a better look at her face and she chuckled, smirking at him mischievously. “Hello, Yoosung.”

“Are you…Calypso?” He asked in wonder, his eyes studying her up and down, taking her in.

Before she could answer, Zen wrapped an arm around her hip. “Yes, she is. Don’t have other thoughts.”

She laughed at his possessive nature, enjoying every second of it. “Yes, I am.”

“Wow!” He bowed in greeting. “It’s so nice to meet you! Are you okay after all that’s happened? I’m so sorry I wasn’t much of a help.”

Zen squeezed her hip reassuringly before taking a step back and placing his hand on Yoosung’s shoulder. “You’re sorry, right? Then take care of Calypso for me. Make sure no other guy gets his hands on her!”

“What? Me?” Yoosung pointed at himself in bewilderment.

Jaehee spoke again. “Then, I’ll leave to it. I have to go, but I will see you later.”

“Call for me if anything happens. Thanks!” Zen also began walking away, his voice echoing in the hall as he left.

A powerful embarrassed blush covered Yoosung’s cheeks as he realized he had been left alone with her. He looked at her once again, trying to think of what he was going to say to her, but she stopped him before he could even open his mouth.

“I’ve been dying to meet you!” Her arms wrapped themselves around him, pulling him in for a hug. She pulled back slightly to look at his face and pinch his cheeks. “Look at you! You’re adorable.”

“Uhm…!” He suffocated against her chest. She was considerably taller than him, specially in heels, but she didn’t let him get away until she had had her fill. His words were muffled as he wrapped his arms around her in return. “I’m so excited to meet you too!”

Finally, she let him pull away. “You’ll have to forgive me; I know our cultures are different, but I couldn’t help myself...I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, I just hope Zen won’t kill me.” He blushed again, shaking his head desperately and motioning for her to follow him.

She leaned down as they walked, whispering in his ear. “I won’t let him, don’t worry.”

“We were like internet friends until now.” He began talking, gesturing with his hands. “It feels so different to see you in person!”

She opened her mouth to reply, but her words were interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from a group of guests. She gifted him an apologetic smile in return.

“It’s really crowded here.” Yoosung noted. “Do you want to go someplace quieter?”

Raising an eyebrow, reminded of what that phrase meant in her country, she smirked at him but nodded, nonetheless. She let herself be guided to a less crowded room filled with tables. The guests talked amongst themselves in a quiet voice and she recognized a few from the emails she had exchanged with them.

“Whew…” Yoosung sighed, swiping the side of his hand against his forehead dramatically. “It’s a bit better here.”

A waiter passed her by with a tray of drinks and she knew this was her only chance to drink anything alcoholic before she had Zen or her fathers by her side once again. Before she could reach for the waiter, a loud voice came from behind her, startling her and making her miss the waiter.

“Mr. Han, I heard rumours saying that the musical actor was hired to be on our new commercial. I know he’s a personal friend of yours, but shouldn’t we think about the company’s reputation…?” The man called out.

Calypso turned to identify the source of the voice and smirked when she recognized Jumin’s figure standing beside the man with a champagne flute in hand.

“I understand your concern. But…the commercial you are referring to is a business directly managed by C&R, so I will be able to take on all the risks.”

“It’s interesting to see you defend him yourself.” The man tried to conceal his frown. “Is there a reason you insist on hiring him?”

Yoosung noticed the fact that her attention had been drawn somewhere else and smiled when he recognized Jumin. “Oh, it’s Jumin!”

The sound of Yoosung’s voice caught his attention and he turned to them. A spark of something flashed against his eyes when his gaze landed on her and he excused himself from the conversation, making his way towards them.

“Jumin, this is Calypso.” Yoosung introduced her, unaware of the fact that they already knew each other. “Aren’t you so glad to see her in person?”

An unspoken agreement was shared between them as he looked deep into her eyes and at her lips with longing. He cleared his throat and corrected his posture, bowing slightly to her.

“I’m honoured to meet you, Calypso.” He began, the lie slipping smoothly past his lips. “You’ve invited excellent guests. You seem talented at this job, so I hope you consider working together from now on.”

She winked at him teasingly, lowering her voice to a seductive tone on purpose. “Of course, Mr. Han.”

“Oh, come on!” Yoosung argued. “That’s so businesslike!”

“Have V’s prints arrived yet?” He asked, blatantly ignoring Yoosung’s protests.

The student rolled his eyes but replied, nonetheless. “Seven has supposedly brought them along in his car, but I don’t know where V is.”

“Oh, he won’t be coming.” Jumin replied matter-of-factly. “He’s sick.”

He emphasized the last word for her, but she said nothing. They were both keeping up appearances. Whatever issues he had with her; they’d deal with them privately. Hopefully, in bed with Zen.

“Where’s Luciel?” She questioned, internally rolling her eyes at his jab. “I’m eager to meet him.”

“He’s…” Jumin trailed off, looking for him in the crowd behind her. “Heading our way.”

Instantly, she turned around. She collided with something hard and a pair of hands grasped her wrists to balance her. She came face to face with jaguar animal print and frowned, pulling away with a mumbled _thank you_ and staring into the eyes of a man she didn’t know.

“Wow, Madam Vanderwood, you just saved the day!” Spoke Seven behind them, laughing.

The unknown man’s eye twitched, and she just knew she had to intervene.

“Thank you, Vanderwood, is it?” She asked, gifting him a dashing smile. “Are you a friend of Luciel’s?”

“A co-worker.” He clarified, lowering his voice so only she’d be able to hear his next words. “A babysitter, really.”

She laughed. “Well, he’s certainly lucky to have you, then.”

“I’m right here, you know.” Seven argued. “I can hear everything you say. I’m God Seven.”

Vanderwood ignored him and proceeded to introduce himself to Jumin and Yoosung as she directed her attention to Luciel.

Her eyes widened when she realized Saeran was standing beside Luciel. He smiled shily at her and she marvelled at the fact that he had dared bring his brother despite the critical psychological condition he was in. But, she mused, she didn’t know him like he did. She would have to trust him.

“Hello, Saeran.” She whispered so only the twins would be able to hear. “I’m happy you decided to join us.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He replied bashfully. “Thank you, Calypso…for everything.”

She choked out a pained laugh and smiled at him as lovingly as she could. “Thank you for letting me help you.”

Luciel noticed the exchange and smiled to himself, placing a reassuring hand over his brother’s shoulder and gently urging him forward.

“Why don’t you go and introduce yourself to Jumin?” He suggested kindly. “It’s okay, like we rehearsed, remember?”

Saeran nodded in lieu of an answer and joined Vanderwood.

Just like that, she was left alone with Luciel once again. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds, assessing each other before she took a step forward and enveloped him in a hug, uncaring of how strange it seemed to the rest of the members of the RFA.

“Thank you.” She whispered in his ear wetly. “Please take care of him.”

Luciel wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and inhaling the scent of her passionfruit perfume. “Thank you for bringing him back to me.”

“I’m…” She pulled away, shaking her head. “Anytime.”

“We should probably start acting like we don’t know each other or Yoosung will suspect, you know?” He laughed at her incapacity to take his gratitude. 

“I’m guessing we’ll have to tell him someday.” She commented casually, shoving playfully.

His eyes widened, a mischievous spark in them. “So, you _are_ staying.”

“I am.” She smiled. “For as long as you all want me.”

“Then you won’t be going anywhere.” He added, smiling at her. “Unless it’s for vacations. Even then, you’re taking all of us with you.”

“You’ll be seeing me naked _again_ if I take you all with Zen and I, then.” She teased, finally grabbing a hold of a waiter, and snatching a champagne glass.

She enjoyed the surprised look on his face as the meaning behind her words dawned on him.

“You know I saw you guys?” He blushed, red like his hair.

Sipping her champagne, she shrugged in response, winking at him. “I bet you enjoyed the show.”

“I-“ Before he could answer her, she walked away, laughing.

They both joined the group as they discussed the guests and the party. They were excited to be finally hosting a party after all this time and they kept on congratulating her for doing a fantastic job. The decorations, the food, the music – everything had been planned meticulously and they had loved it.

She had already downed her second flute of champagne by the time Jaehee came up on stage.

“We have more guests than usual here.” She remarked joyfully. “I hope that this turns out to be a meaningful occasion for all of you.”

The guests clapped and she waited for them to quiet down before speaking again. Calypso placed her empty flute on a nearby table.

“I’m sure some of you are confused regarding why we are holding a press conference for a musical actor at a charity party.”

Hushes and whispers escalated through the room.

“Some of you may know, but we have right here one of the RFA members, Zen, who is in the middle of a controversy at the moment. As an organization, we would like to prevent any more false rumours from spreading about one of our members and maintain our status.” She explained, pausing meaningfully. “Of course, it is our opinion that this is all a misunderstanding. Please be your own judge of this matter.”

Yoosung choked on his cider behind her. “That sounds a bit harsh!”

Jumin closed his eyes and a small smile drew itself on his lips. It was so rare that Calypso couldn’t help but to smile along. “I rewrote the last part of that speech.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She chuckled, her hand brushing against Jumin’s playfully.

He said nothing more, merely gifting her another smile.

“Then, I introduce to you, Zen!” Jaehee announced.

She stepped aside and Zen took her place. He looked nervous but he forced himself to conceal it as best as he could, aware that the world had its eye on him.

“It’s Zen!” Yoosung exclaimed in excitement.

He looked for her in the crowd nervously.

She smiled reassuringly.

* * *


	49. You Are In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars and why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words. 'Cause you can hear in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out. You are in love, true love. You're in love.
> 
> Thank you to NotTheMainCharacter for keeping me motivated with your continued support! You have my infinite thanks. 
> 
> If you like the story, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“For one human being to love another; that is perhaps  
the most difficult of our tasks; the ultimate, the last test and  
proof; the work for which all other work is but preparation.”  
\- Reiner Maria Rike_

* * *

He played with the edge of his coat nervously, wondering if what he was about to say would make or ruin his career. After all, once you’ve hit rock bottom the only way is up, correct?

The flashes of cameras were no unknown lightning to him, but he could almost feel the burn of it underneath the fabric of his clothes. Amongst a sea of heads and bodies, he searched for the one he loved. She stood beside Jumin, a solemn look on her countenance and smile on her lips. She nodded at him, reassuring him that all would be well.

“Hello…I’m Zen.” His voice was barely above a whisper, broken. He opened his mouth once again, but he was interrupted by the cacophony of reporters questioning him like a wave crashing down on him.

Thankfully, Jaehee raised her palm up, signalling for silence. “Questions will be answered at the end, please refrain from interrupting until then.”

Smiling at her gratefully, he continued. Gathering confidence, the words he had practiced, words that mirrored the emotions in him, flowed out of him naturally. His voice grew commanding, soothing, velvet against iron.

“As a child, people would constantly touch me without my permission because of the way I looked. They must have believed that they were entitled to my body, to _me_ , because I was a paragon of a beauty standard thousands have died to achieve. At the time, I didn’t know what was happening to me, and I didn’t know it was wrong. I just knew I felt uncomfortable and that I wanted it to stop. Hands always seemed to surround me. I wasn’t human, I was an object.”

This was a level of vulnerability he had never wanted to bestow upon the hands of the public or the media – who could easily change the narrative. But he saw no other way to articulate the truth but to tell his own.

“I am a man. Society has provided me both privilege and the curse of what it entails. We are brought up to hide all our natural, vulnerable, empathic feelings behind a mask of a masculinity that has turned so toxic it has poisoned the very way we perceive the world and the people who inhabit it. Masculinity has never been organic; it is a reaction. It’s not something we develop, but a rejection of everything that is feminine because we were taught that feminine is synonym to weakness.”

He could hear the hushed whispers of the crowd. His gaze desperately locked into Calypso’s, drawing strength from the fire he had seen burn in the embers of her iris.

“To this day, I fight the remnants of toxic masculinity that were planted in me during my upbringing. I was young when the touches began and I changed forever – a part of me shut down for years, and there were so many feelings that finally exploded when I went to do military service. Anger, grief… _shame_. I didn’t tell anyone because I avoided it myself.”

The memories tried to rush into his mind, to cripple him but he forced himself to fight back. It was time to raise his voice and speak his truth.

“I was ashamed of what people did to me, I still am. As I grew, I made a point to never make feel anyone the way people made me feel when I was young. Consent dictates the way I handle every relationship in my life, regardless of its nature. I try to remain aware of what I say or do, and I may err sometimes, but I have never touched anyone without their permission unless it was self-defence.”

Taking a deep breath, he said the words that would change his career forever. 

“And it is because of this awareness, because I’ve been on the side of the spectrum I’m being accused of, that I must deny the all accusations against me for sexually harassing Echo Girl.”

The voices got louder, and he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath before continuing.

“I am a proud feminist and the people around me know this. I have stood by the side of the amazing women who have opened doors for me and supported them because it is not only up to them to break the wheel of oppression that has kept them down for so long. Women are assaulted, raped and belittled on the daily and we tend to turn a blind eye to it unless their voices grow loud enough. And coming forward when you’ve been sexually assaulted takes a different type of strength and bravery. It is the rupture of a culture that has silenced women for generations because they were thought weaker than men.”

Anger began to coil deep within him. 

“It is time that the voices of women and men who have suffered and carried this burden for so long are heard, it is time to raise awareness and face the consequences for such vile actions. My voice is being heard today, and I hope to give platform to people who may still be considering what could happen if they dared speak.”

His fist clenched.

“And I will not allow Echo Girl to diminish these voices, to discredit those who have the strength and bravery to come forward by tainting the movement with lies. I will not be the sacrificial lamb for a woman who decided it was easy to use one of my core values against me to destroy the person I am, to destroy my career.”

 _Breathe in. Breathe out._

“She planned for me to star as the lead with her on a musical – and that is the reason she was at my house, or so I thought, to discuss the roles. Instead, I was used and turned into a monster. I was framed by her manager and a photo was taken without my consent for the purpose of taking it out of context and creating a narrative that should’ve never existed. Evidence gathered from her public social media, and information provided to us by a source who wished to remain anonymous will be contained in the official press release.”

He signalled Jaehee to bring Mr. Kim, his witness, onto the stage.

“Before the night she claims I harassed her, she visited my home. We have a witness who saw her that day. Mr. Jungsoo Kim?”

Stepping aside and gently guiding the man into the microphone, he let him speak. When they took this incident to court, he would have to ask the bread seller to support him once more and hope he could repay his kindness one day.

His mind and body disconnected in that moment, he floated above the reporters, watching their reactions, hearing their words but not really listening to their meaning as they badgered his witness mercilessly with questions.

Then, Mr. Kim stepped back and handed him the microphone back. His hands were no longer shaking. A reporter raised her hand, holding her notepad close to her chest. “Zen, may I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“I cannot help but to think that you, having this press conference, will antagonize a female singer who is extremely popular at the moment.” She began, her lips drawn into a thin line. “What do you think about this? If any of what you said here today is proven to be false, your career and professional life will be at risk.”

It took a lot in him not to chuckle, knowing that his personal life would never be in danger – having a former secret agent as a partner made sure of it. Instead, he took the professional route.

“To be honest, the life of an actor is like balancing on a tightrope. I’ve had to cover up my personal life in order not to ruin people’s perception of me.”

He gulped, knowing there was no going back from this.

“My weaknesses: family problems, bad education records, my short temper. I had to hide everything…I even thought to remain single for my fans.”

Calypso winked at him in the background and he smiled. It was their secret, their own little haven in the world they lived in. A life they _could_ dare dream of.

“But ever since there was a discrepancy between the dichotomy of the real me and the public image I uphold…I became afraid of what would happen once it was noticed. This incident gave me much to think about. I could’ve remained silent, changed my name and taken on another job, but the truth can never be hidden for long.”

Honesty would have to do. 

“Acting is not just a job for me, it is who I am, it is my life. And if my life isn’t honest…what would be the point? My past has led me to become someone who inspired people, that is the truth. I never laid a hand on Echo Girl, this is also the truth.”

Jumin leaned down to whisper something in Calypso’s ear, making her nod. He didn’t know whether it had been jealousy or a desire to be as truthful as he could because he was tired of hiding that drove him to reveal the truth of his relationship. His pride chose the latter.

“And to have harassed her would’ve been not only a betrayal to who I am as a person, but an act of disrespect towards the woman I love.”

He had to refrain from laughing when he noticed both Calypso and Jumin were choking on their champagne. Making a mental note to chastise her for drinking later, he focused his gaze on her. She looked at him with nothing but wonder in her eyes, a goofy smile drawn on her lips. The heir leaned down to whisper something to her, but she put her palm in his cheek to stop him from getting close to her ear.

Her eyes set on his – as if the whole world faded into nothing when they looked at each other, too lost in their own reality. Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes and she was furiously tilting her head back and tapping her cheeks to avoid ruining her make-up.

A reporter stepped forward. “Are you in a relationship at the moment?”

“I am.” He chuckled; his gaze set on her. “Until now, my acting was a reflection of my struggle, but now…thanks to her, it will reflect warmth and love.”

“Is she here?” The reporter asked excitedly, looking around for the person he kept looking at.

He noticed her unease, the subtle tremble of her hands as she held her champagne flute. She had always been a master of the shadows, and he knew it would take a long time for her to live her life in the light. One day, she’d be ready, but today? He wouldn’t push her into it more than the paparazzi already had.

“She is, but you will have to speculate her identity or figure it out yourselves.” He winked. “This concludes the press conference. Thank you.”

He got off the stage, ignoring the calls from the reporters and the flashing lights of paparazzi, and made his way to the spot where his friends and his lover stood. Jaehee had gotten off the stage before him and she was already gathered there with them.

“Zen, that was great! Everything went well!” Jaehee spoke, a big smile on her face and a hopeful look in her eyes.

Jumin placed his hand on his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. “Congratulations, Hyun.”

“That was amazing, Zen!” Yoosung exclaimed, bouncing in place.

Seven smiled at him. Beside him, stood his twin brother and a man he didn’t recognize. He supposed introductions were in order later in the night.

They all parted, making way for him so he could reach Calypso. There was an indecipherable poker face covering her features like a veil. Had he done something wrong? Had he made her uncomfortable by confessing his feelings for her in such a public fashion? He had wanted nothing more than to scream at the top of his lungs to the entire population of the world that he loved her.

He faked a smile, trying to remain calm as he finally came to stand before her, inches apart. Tentatively, he reached for her hand.

A sigh of relief escaped him when her hand closed around his and squeezed before intertwining their fingers. Finally, a genuine grin decorated his features. “Hey.”

His voice was barely above a whisper in the hurricane of noise inside of the room, and he feared she hadn’t heard him. “Hey, handsome.”

Despite her carefully guarded expression, he recognized the warmth in her voice and the twinkle in her eyes. She was practically vibrating in the feeling that enveloped her, the heat that surrounded her making her glow as if a soft aura of light was etched into her body like an accessory. He sensed her need for privacy and nodded at her in understanding.

There was no need to turn around as he looked back at their friends and spoke. “Hey, we’ll meet with you in the ballroom in a bit.”

He didn’t wait for their answer, merely holding onto Calypso’s hand and walking away. The cold gold of her ring dug into his skin as she gripped his hand nervously. They passed the crowd, and her hold loosened slightly, indicating relief. There was a storm raging inside of her mind.

The ballroom had a considerably smaller group of guests, dancing and talking to the classical music provided by the orchestra Calypso had hired for the occasion. She had done an amazing job at organizing the event with what little time she had been provided. Her first party rivalled Rika’s best – and he held no doubt in his mind that if she chose to become the new party planner for good, she’d be an amazing host.

Scanning the room for peace and quiet, his gaze landed upon the closed doors of a balcony. Slowly, he guided her to it, opening the door and stepping into the ocean of stars above them lighting their path.

They stared at each other, too lost in the words that had yet to be uttered. His hand let go of hers and travelled all the way up to her shoulder, pulling her close enough so he could feel the warmth of her skin through the flowers decorating her frame.

Her lips parted slightly as she looked up at him with wonder, with nothing but love. The sense of homecoming embedded into the very air they breathed in the space between them. In that moment, he knew her to be the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out. Rugged, torn and yet so perfectly crafted.

“I…” She began nervously. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve held back any desire to have a normal life. I thought myself too far gone for it. Meeting you…it made me dream of lives I thought I could never hope to possess.”

A small smile lifted the corners of his lips as he tucked an imaginary strand of hair away from her face. He listened attentively, eagerly taking in every word of hers with devotion.

“I learned many things about myself during the short time I’ve known you. And one of them was the fact that I don’t have to become a memory or an echo of someone that coincided in life with you. Tonight depicted the first time my image will be out there. I am no longer a shadow; I can no longer be whoever I have to be.”

His heart dropped.

“And funnily enough…it made me realize two things.”

Where could history be produced where there was an amnesic quality to the memory of her reflection in the mirror? How could she disarm what structured repetition had turned into destiny so she could pulsate with a life she had deprived herself from and transform her present and future into something different? 

He tried to hold back the breaking of his voice. “What did you realize, princess?”

“That I know who I am and…that I love you too, and I would love to grow into the best version of myself with you by my side.” She stated confidently, lovingly lifting her hands up to cover his own from where they rested on her shoulders and caressing the skin there. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

Choking out a laugh, he said nothing and instead pulled her in for a kiss. He struggled against the accessory decorating her face but pushed it aside gently so he could have better access to her mouth. Everything he had ever held back, every word he had dared not say to her for fear of the uncertainty of her drive, he poured into her lips. Overflowing with love.

They only dared break the kiss once they were both out of breath. Leaning their foreheads together, they closed their eyes. His hair shielded them from the rest of the world. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.” She replied, taking a step back and fixing the accessory on her face. “So, I take it you agree?”

He laughed. “Of course! You beat me to asking you to be my partner, but of course!"

She could do nothing more but to laugh along with him. Before she could go in for another kiss, someone cleared their throat behind them.

They turned in unison, annoyed at the interruption, only for it to wash away once she realized who it was. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“No!” Zen exclaimed a bit too eagerly, confirming their suspicions. “No, you’re not.”

Ian lifted an eyebrow, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Really? Because it seemed to us as if you were in the middle of confessing your true love to each other.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Calypso asked, her hand coming to rest on her hip and the other pointing a finger at her fathers accusingly.

“Long enough to congratulate you two.” Alistair spoke warmly.

“And to warn Hyun here just how annoying loving a secret agent is.” Ian added, rolling his eyes good-naturedly and bumping his hip against his husband’s playfully. “You better get good health insurance.”

Zen chuckled as he shook his head and reached for her hand. “I’ll see you in there. It seems to me like you’ve got to talk to them.”

“Thank you, Hyun.” Ian bowed dramatically. “Someone who understands, I like him.”

They waited until he was gone to speak, and reality came crashing down on her. She had to tell them she wasn’t going back to London with them. It felt selfish.

“You’ve made your choice, then.” Alistair broke the silence. “You’re staying here.”

“I’m afraid so. This is the first thing, the first _person_ , I _truly_ want to keep…and I don’t want to let this feeling go. It feels like home, like you two, just a bit different.”

“It’s alright, honey. We’ve held you back for too long, it’s time for you to live. Truly live, not survive.” Ian comforted her, pulling her into his embrace.

She buried her face in his chest, careful not to ruin his clothes with her make-up and whispered her gratitude for their support. When she felt his body shaking with sobs, she lifted her head. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, he took a step back. In his usual flamboyant fashion, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and started dabbing his eyes to dry his tears.

“My baby is all grown up.” He half-jested. “You better be giving me grandkids soon, and I expect you to visit at least once every two months. If not, I’m coming to visit you. I am helping you plan the wedding!”

“Daddy!” She chortled, trying to repress her laughter. “We have only known each other for…what? Eleven days? Don't get ahead of yourself.”

“ _As if_! When the heart knows, it knows. Otherwise I wouldn’t have married this grumpy old man next to me.” Ian teased, finally folding his handkerchief, and stuffing it back in his pocket.

They both turned to Alistair expectantly. She had already quit the agency once, and even though it had broken both of their hearts, he had allowed her and encouraged her to form her own path. She supposed that almost dying put many things into perspective. Well…she had almost died _many_ times, but this time was different.

“Paperwork will be hell.” He simply said, opening his arms invitingly.

Both Ian and she rushed into his embrace, knocking heads and complaining before settling into the warmth and love of his arms.

“We love you.” Alistair whispered into her head lovingly. “And if he makes you happy, then you have our blessing. If not, he knows what we do for a living.”

She chuckled wetly and pulled away. “I don’t think he’ll forget it any time soon.”

Both Alistair and Ian smiled at her, their grins matching in the infinite amount of love they would forever treasure for her.

“Did you really write spy love songs for my father?” She questioned Ian, a mocking tone in her voice.

“I believe he’s anxiously waiting for your return; I can feel the heat of that boy’s gaze on my back.” Alistair joked, winking at her uncharacteristically, wanting to drive her attention elsewhere.

“Go to him.” Ian giggled. “I’ll tell you all about them later.”

“Promise?” She pressed, knowing she didn’t want to miss the anecdote.

“I promise.”

With those words, she exited the balcony and returned to the warmth provided by the walls of the ballroom. People danced, drank, ate, and talked cheerfully.

Her gaze settled on the shape of him. A smile carved itself into her countenance, beautiful and genuine, lighting her soul. After such a short period of time, she could barely believe how strongly she loved him. These were the sort of love stories most people only dreamed of, only read of. It amazed her how, after meeting him, she dreamed in gold. For far too long, crimson had defined her life – survival etched into every thread of her. It had taken him, his fire, his determination, and his gentle way of handling love to make her realize that living was golden, a soft palette of sunrise shades.

And as she walked to him, she knew there was no need for lights when he was near, for she could’ve sleepwalked to him even in hell. It was time to embrace the meteorite, to allow it to burst into sugar and snow.

Filtering through the windows and the silk curtains, the light from the chandelier mimicked sunrise as it reached for her, arranging itself over her head like a crown and highlighting her as the essence of the very love he had found, the conqueror of the kingdom within his heart – where he had welcomed her with open arms and a warmth to last them through every winter. The gold surrounding her made her shine like sunlight through a honey jar, far sweeter.

Finally, she came to stand before him. He reached for her hand and bowed, a playful and loving spark concealed in his ruby eyes.

“May I have this dance, your highness?” Zen asked in the most gentleman-like way he could. Like a prince out of a fairy-tale.

“Why, yes, Sir Zen.” She joked, letting him pull her into a slow and elegant waltz.

“You can call me by my real name.” He whispered in her ear and pulled back to look at the surprise in her face.

If he was going to establish boundaries between his personal and professional life, he would begin by not hiding who he was anymore. He’d be Zen to the rest of the world and Hyun to her – to the one woman he would love for as long as he could draw breath.

“Very well, Sir Hyun.” She stated, her eyes crinkling with the sheer joy of her smile. “I’d be honoured.”

Shaking his head, he pulled her in for another kiss, uncaring of the crowd around them. Their movements light and carefree, smooth enough to show the world they belonged to each other. That their souls had finally been reunited.

“I love you, Calypso.” He whispered into her lips.

“I love you too, Hyun.” She whispered back.

An echo of the past forced a chuckle out of him, as he realized those 36 questions had actually worked out for them.

He’d make sure to write an amazing review on the website.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned the beautiful artwork for this chapter to my lovely friend MisuCastLove.
> 
> Check out her social links if you're interested in her amazing art:
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CassMarisa  
> Instagram: https://instagram.com/misucastlove  
> Tumblr: https://marisay-cm-blog.tumblr.com/


	50. Epilogue: Wasteland, Baby!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the stench of the sea and the absence of green are the death of all things that are seen and unseen. Not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do. Wasteland, baby, I'm in love, I'm in love with you. That's it. 
> 
> So our story comes to its inevitable end. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review and leave kudos - these were the things that kept me going when I had no time or no inspiration. 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

_“Life is the flower for  
which love is the honey.”  
\- Victor Hugo_

* * *

_5 years later…_

Her hand rested on her belly, absentmindedly caressing the fabric of her dress that covered the swell that had taken hold of her once lean figure. Her other hand was gently running up and down the white fur of her afghan hound. The sound of soft music and chatter surrounded her along with the gentle wind of autumn. Dry leaves were scattered around them, the colours of sunrise painting the ground underneath their feet.

All around her were the people she loved and treasured.

She could see Yoosung and the Choi twins playing a crossover fighting game at the end of the table, their playful bickering a warm flame surrounding her heart with nothing but fondness for them all. Even as they accidentally pushed their coffee cups to the grass, watering the earth with caffeine.

Saeran had gotten better. His process had been painful and lengthy, but he had been provided the best psychological attention in the world. He had resisted at first, the dichotomy of his mind resisting the survival it had been forced into as a child, but he had pulled through. Healing had been considerably easier with an emotional support network as big as his, consisting of the entirety of the RFA. After a while, they had helped him open a flower shop in the city. It was therapeutic and it allowed him to spend some time with himself when he needed it. She visited every week, even helped him around the shop. It was because of him that her garden was as beautiful as it was. 

Saeyoung, who had decided to start using his real name, had healed alongside his brother. The part of him that had been missing for so long had finally returned to him, and it had provided him everything he needed to start living. When her agency finally agreed on a contract with his, the Erinyes had asked for him to join their personnel. Her father had grown fond of him and had allowed the hacker the freedom to pick his hours and take holidays – so he remained in Seoul, hacking to his heart’s content and making the world a better place by protecting it. Normally, it was him she came to when she wanted gossip about her former co-workers – especially about that one agent he had been talking to. He would never admit it to her, but he was crushing hard.

Yoosung had worked through his grief, and he had finally put Rika to rest with his memories of her. Calypso never told him it was her who put an end to his cousin’s life, and she felt guilty every time he mentioned her, regardless of how rare it was now that he had completed his therapeutic process. It would be her cross to bear, for she never wanted the way he looked at her to change. He had also graduated in veterinary science and he ran a clinic. He had confessed to her recently that he was in love with his new assistant, but he had yet to tell her. She was excited to see his love story unfold and share the story with his mother when they met for their monthly tea.

To her left, standing close to the pomegranate tree in her garden, she could see Jumin and his fiancée talking to Jihyun, formerly known as V. They were discussing the latter’s new travel anecdotes over a glass of wine. They, too, were burdened with the crushing weight of Rika’s true demise – but they shared it, they carried it all together. Their lives no longer belonged to them, but to the woman whose legacy had to die so they could live.

Jumin had formally inherited C&R International, managing his family’s company as he always had. After he took control, the company’s success had grown increasingly – he was good at his job, and he enjoyed it with every fibre of his being. For a while, he had been commonly welcomed in the bed she shared with Hyun. Passion had always overflowed from their encounters, as she made love to them both. It had only been after he met someone that their arrangement had been ruptured. She was a lovely woman, conservative, perfect for him. Everything he had wanted Calypso to be but that she had never been able to provide. She had rooted for him when he had met her, so far as to help him court her. Things were great between them, and the ring she had helped him pick was evidence to it. 

V had been forced to face reality after he had been released from the hospital. Her agency had immediately taken him in, interrogated every drop of information out of him and forced him into exile for a couple months. He had travelled the world, even visited his family, all the while working through the abuse and tangles in his mind with the help of a professional. Calypso had never known much about him, and he had confessed to her that he was glad he met the best version of himself instead of the broken man she had saved. He had taken to painting instead of photography and a painting of his mother hung upon his wall. Little by little, he had healed. His love life was now the least of his concerns.

Every year, she joined him when he visited the place where the chateau of Magenta had once stood proudly before it was taken down. Every year, they stood side by side in silence, holding hands and trying to reminisce only the good. It marked the end of an era for both of them. For him, it was the breaking of chains and, for her, it was the death of life as she had known it. Every year, they planted sunflower seeds underneath the fertile soil. The judge, the jury, and the executioner.

To her right, a couple of chairs away from her, sat Jaehee, holding her partner’s hand as they shared a piece of cake. They discussed the ingredients, taking notes and laughing. As her partner tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear, Calypso was unable to hold back the smile that drew on her lips at how cute they were together.

After the party, Jaehee had handed her resignation letter to Jumin. It had been hilarious to watch the heir try to convince her to stay. He had offered her a ridiculous amount of money, but she had refused. Not long after quitting, Jaehee had come to her, asking her to become her business associate. Calypso had invested in the former secretary’s coffee shop, helping her pick everything from the items of the menu to the decorations. She had merely paid for half of everything, not wanting to intrude in her creative process. Heavens knew how much the poor woman had needed freedom to do whatever she pleased. The coffee shop had been a success and it had excellent reviews online - it was one of the city’s most popular spots. Not long after the debut of the shop, one of the regulars had begun flirting with Jaehee. And the rest? The rest was history. Finally, she could say she was happy.

Sitting right beside her were both of her parents, engaged in a debate on whether they should temporarily move to Seoul or not to help her. Their marriage was still going strong, always balancing each other out. Whereas Alistair was serious and grumpy, far too logical for his own good; Ian was flamboyant, and cheerful, always the ray of sunshine that lit up every room he walked into. They had insisted on paying for her wedding, making it an extravagant and lavish event regardless of how many people had been invited. A couple of months after her last mission, she had returned to London for some vacations, and she had finally convinced Ian to play his infamous spy songs to her. It was now a secret she kept with him, and no matter how much Alistair tried to convince them to share the songs with him, they didn’t budge. They loved to tease him about it.

She may have not moved to an island in Greece, but she had held a wedding worthy of rivalling Hollywood in it. Her honeymoon had also been spent in it, eating cherry pies next to a lemon tree with nothing but the sound of the waves to keep them company. It had taken her a few years to realize that Sicily had slowly loosed its hold on her psyche, replaced by the meaningful image of Skopelos. The nightmares still came every year, but Hyun was there to chase them away.

After their honeymoon, they bought a villa in Gangnam. It had taken a while for her to find something that she truly liked, a place where she could see herself growing old with her husband. He had tried to argue with her at first, telling her that he wanted to help her buy it – but she had told him that she wanted to do buy it for them. She had dreamed of it for so long. 

The first year of their marriage was spent decorating and renovating the entire villa into something they both liked. It had brought them together, knowing they were building something for their future. It hadn’t taken long for the media to plaster the information all over the tabloid news. She had been expecting a rush of crazed fans but was greeted instead with several celebratory food and toiletry baskets to bless their marriage and new home. They got the crazy stan every once in a while, but it was just a matter of calling the police or Calypso pulling out one of her old firearms from her extensive collection hidden in the basement.

Her identity also remained a mystery to the public. They knew her to be the RFA’s new manager and party planner, and Zen’s wife, but nothing more about the mysterious woman who had joined the association. She liked it that way. It meant that only the people she cared about truly knew who she was. Even Yoosung and Jaehee. It had taken them a couple of weeks to truly process the data she had provided. They knew she had been a secret agent and that she had been investigating the RFA, but that was it. She had claimed that the rest was confidential information.

It had also given her the freedom to tell Yoosung all those stories she had promised him. 

“Princess?” She heard her husband’s voice calling behind her, his hand on her shoulder. The ring on his finger sparkled against the sunshine that met its surface. “Are you okay?”

Shaken out of her reverie, she smiled at him. Her hair had grown past her shoulders and the wind danced softly with it. Slowly, she lifted the hand that had been petting their dog and put it atop his, making her own wedding ring shine brightly.

“Hi, handsome.” She intoned, staring into those wine dark eyes of his. “Yes, don’t worry. Just thinking.”

He sat on the chair next to hers, his hand travelling from her shoulder to the swell of her belly. He leaned down, whispering sweet nothings to it, and caressing it lovingly. Warmth filled her heart as she stared at him, overflowing with love and devotion for the man she had chosen as her own.

“My parents keep on insisting we should name him after a historical figure.” He commented, chuckling slightly. “Something about greatness.”

Languidly, he had recalled to her his reunion with his parents one night, as they laid in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He had narrated how terrified he had been when he dialled his brother’s phone number. Even more so when he had visited them. Everything had remained the same, yet so much had changed. It had taken his parents a bit of time to come around to the idea of him becoming a famous musical actor. Eventually, they accepted that he had no longer been under their control. And after all the money he was making? They had no arguments left to argue with him.

Confronting them had been the second most frightening and empowering act he had ever performed. It had been the climatic phase in his journey toward autonomy. No matter what happened during or after the confrontation, he would come out a winner because he had the courage to do it. He had calmly, after much help preparing for it with Calypso and her fathers, told his parents how much the negative events from his childhood had affected his life and how it had affected his relationship with them in the present. He had not confronted them with the intention of retaliation, punishment, or anger – he had not even expected something positive to come from it.

He had confronted them with the purpose of facing up to them and overcoming that fear. With the purpose of telling his parents the truth and determining the type of relationship he could have with them. It had changed everything, and it had shifted the balance of power between them.

Not confronting them would’ve only reinforced his feelings of helplessness and inadequacy. It would’ve undermined his self-respect. But, out of all the reasons he had done it, the most vital of them all was him deciding he wanted to become a father. _What he didn’t hand back, he would pass on_. He vowed to never treat his child the way his parents had treated him. The cycle had been broken.

They couldn’t change the past, but they could begin again.

And they had redefined their relationship. He had set boundaries on what he was willing to accept and what he wasn’t. It had been hard, but so worth it. They still struggled sometimes, but he knew they no longer had any control over his life decisions.

“My fathers gave me a list of names.” She giggled. “They claimed they were _just_ suggestions, but they took the time to highlight their favourites. They’re not being particularly subtle either.”

Finally, Hyun lifted his head to look at her, planting a chaste kiss on her lips.

“At the end of the day, the decision is ours.” He asserted, leaning his forehead against hers.

Enjoying his proximity, she closed her eyes. He always calmed her down. “Let’s humour them by at least reading the bloody list.”

“Do you mind waiting until I come back to read it?” He queried; guilt laced in his voice.

Her father had pulled a few strings after their engagement a couple of years back. Nothing too bizarre. He had asked an old friend to let Hyun audition for a role. With his hard earned fame, his natural talent and charming personality – he landed the role that would make his career skyrocket to fame.

The theatres he had spoken of when they had first begun talking had become a part of his home. She had been there to watch every debut, there to be his fifty thousand clapping as one. When he went on tour, she’d visit her fathers. At times, she would join him. She was truly happy, knowing he had accomplished his dreams.

He had even starred in a movie, and she would never admit to him that she had been jealous of the actress who had starred beside him, no matter how much he teased her. It had been then that she finally understood how he had felt knowing all the RFA members had lusted after her. Some of them had loved her – but that love had transformed with the passing of time.

“We’ll miss you.” She bantered. “Especially our little dancer here. He’s eager to meet you.”

A laugh escaped him. “I know. I won’t be gone for long, just a week. I’ll come back to you.”

“You better.” She stated, kissing him lovingly.

The sound of a knife tapping against a wine glass brought them back to reality. They turned to the source to find Ian with a mischievous grin on his countenance. He had recently mastered Korean and his accent due to unuse made it endearing to listen to him speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the anniversary of these two lovebirds.” He began in dramatic fashion, reaching for his handkerchief and dabbing his tears away.

She could do nothing but turn to Hyun and share a laugh, holding his hand and squeezing it.

Because this was it, this was the life she had dreamed of. It was theirs...

...and so much more. 

* * *


End file.
